


To Rule The Zones

by Eustacia Vye (eustaciavye)



Series: Bridging Zones [2]
Category: Tin Man (2007)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-01-19
Updated: 2010-05-26
Packaged: 2017-10-07 07:47:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 19
Words: 81,211
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/62969
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eustaciavye/pseuds/Eustacia%20Vye
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>DG wanted to start a war with Lurlaine in the Mirror Zone. Little did she realize that it would lead to a war in the OZ as well...</p><p>(Sequel to my 30-chapter story "The Edge of Dawn." Read that one first!)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Unsteady Beginnings

The Royal House of Gale over the years had collected a fair number of cousins, relations, close friends and hangers-on to the court. Most disappeared when Azkadellia rose to power. Even as a child, the witch's cruel influence was easy to see. The Queen, even when she had her magic, was not used to dealing with such a thing. There had been peace for at least five hundred annuals, and the royal house didn't need to change laws or do very much past ceremonial visits. The Queen didn't know what to do, hadn't known if the strategies suggested by Ambrose or her other advisors were worth the effort.

It all came down to nothing anyway. Nothing worked. The Queen had underestimated the draw of the dark and the way coercion could make the nobles fall into line. Azkadellia had stripped the remaining nobles of their titles and lands, imprisoned some, banished some and killed others outright. It didn't matter that she had been possessed. the Queen had known it was possession after DG's murder. There hadn't been anything like murder among royals in the days after Dorothy Gale came to power in the OZ.

There were few nobles left in the OZ. The few that remained were the pragmatic or cowardly kind. They didn't know how to combat the Sorceress, so they colluded with her or hid. While the Queen wasn't sure she liked the thought of either in her court, she couldn't very well discount their existence. They had clamored for the lands of their fallen relatives, but the Queen had put her foot down. All lost lands were now royal lands, to be dispersed as the Queen wished. It was how she was able to establish baronies for the tin men her daughters seemed to prefer over noble stock.

Considering the quality of the remaining noble stock, she couldn't blame them.

Ashvale would likely come under royal dominion, as Lord Rustling was getting older and no heir was in sight. The Queen didn't look forward to the petty squabbling that was likely to occur once that happened.

Lord Herman Siba was jockeying for position at court. He had been trying once it became apparent that DG would be the Crown Princess. DG had disappeared before he could try to speak with her or woo her. He was a colluder, something the Queen didn't want to hold against him. It wasn't as if she or Ahamo had done anything to stop Azkadellia. But they were her parents, and had hoped their daughter was somewhere inside the monster the Sorceress created. she couldn't try to harm her daughter if there was any hope that she might return to them.

Lord Siba was a difficult sort. Though he was a viscount, he had airs as if he was the Royal Consort himself. The Queen would have to do something about him, and impress upon DG the importance of court politics. But DG was wrapped up in the struggles of the Mirror Zone, wanting to start a war with the Queen of Faerie. She worried about Azkadellia's unnatural coma and the loyalty of the palace servants. There were whispers of those that would want Azkadellia dead, and the list was long. It didn't matter that she had been the victim of possession. It was collusion, but worse than the collusion of nobles. Nobles saved their families and the lives of those on their lands. Azkadellia should have done whatever she could do to stop the Sorceress, as she was responsible for the lives of all the OZ. Instead, she had colluded to save herself at the expense of her people.

The Queen had a headache. This was the usual state of things at this point. Ahamo had never been accepted into the inner workings at court due to his Other Side status. It allowed him to focus on his art and family, though the Queen knew there was some hurt there still. They had been apart for fifteen annuals, had sacrificed everything for the OZ and still he wasn't accepted as one of them.

She wasn't equipped to face this kind of problem.

The Queen headed to Azkadellia's suite. She had caught one of her guards holding her hand in an entirely inappropriate manner while the other one kept watch over them both. She had been unable to say anything in response. What could she say? They cared for her daughter, and obviously they were the only ones keeping her safe and alive. The Queen had no magic left to give, nothing left to pull her scattered court together.

"I just wanted to sit with her," the Queen told them. "Carry on."

"Your Majesty..." the darker one began, voice stiff with concern.

"I'm just her mother at the moment," the Queen said, voice soft. "I just need to know she's still alive."

"Callan and I can leave you alone, if you'd like," he said, voice softening. "We understand."

And they did, which possibly should have bothered the Queen more than it did. "You got to know her fairly well, then?"

Both looked as though they would rather not answer, which she always found a little amusing and a little sad. She wasn't trusted with the inner workings of Azkadellia's life, and things were strained between them. Neither had really known how to bridge the gap between them after the Sorceress was gone. The Queen simply didn't want that time to exist, and Azkadellia couldn't let go of it.

"People tend to get close when they work together," Callan said from the doorway after a moment. "You learn a lot about someone by how they deal with crisis."

The Queen thought her heart might clench in her chest. She was a runner, then. She caved and folded and let children do the kind of work she should have done herself. DG had to save the OZ from Azkadellia because the Queen couldn't bear to think of her daughter lying dead. She gave up her magic to save her daughter. While she could never regret that decision, it was one that cost the OZ annuals of strife.

"And what kind of woman is my daughter?" the Queen whispered, fingering Azkadellia's long hair.

"Strong enough to do what's necessary, even if she doesn't think much of herself," Della said with a sigh.

"Still dealing with what happened before," Callan added. "It will probably be a long time before the remnants of that fade away."

"That could very well describe everyone in this country," the Queen replied.

"True. Some more than others. Very few know when to let go," Della said, his voice a low rumble.

It sounded almost soothing. The Queen imagined that Azkadellia relied on the two of them very much, needing someone to remind her that she was whole now, that she wasn't anyone's puppet. It was something the Queen would have to remember as well.

***

There were so few Practitioners in the OZ that DG was counted among them. This was beyond troubling, as she knew exactly how little she knew about magical arts. Her sister, the fallen Princess Azkadellia easily knew more about magic; its nature and the Old Ways came easily to her. The only problem was that Azkadellia still lay comatose in her bed following the ordeal at the Northern Ice Floe. DG had managed to save her life, but Azkadellia still hovered somewhere between life and death.

Ine'che remained in the OZ as one of DG's Advisors. Tutor had already exhaused his ability to teach her before she had materialized in the Mirror Zone. Ine'che knew the primal magicks of the wyvern kind, which was very different from the magicks of humans. Humans that shifted to animals as Tutor could were rare, and considered to be Practitioners. He was perhaps the closest thing to kindred for Ine'che, and the difference was palpable. It made her miss her fallen brethren that much more.

Ine'che spent time at the Palace at Central City, wandering through its walls and learning the magic of the place. It was different, subtly different, and the flow of its patterning was just off of what she was used to. The lost prisons at Fenaqua and the Northern Ice Floe had kept for so long because none could register its subtle difference. The Royal House of Gale, however, was gifted with magic born of Faeries, born of the Mirror Zone. They could feel it easily, even if there were none left to teach them what the difference was.

Ine'che found herself in the dungeons. They had been locked away many years ago. There was been no use for such a place in generations. Then came the Sorceress, bitter and angry after so many annuals imprisoned. It had been less than a thousand annuals in the OZ perhaps, but they still felt the flow of time from their home zone. It had been over three thousand Mirror annuals, a thousand OZ annuals and far too long for the sake of either witch's sanity.

She had heard tales of DG, Cain, Raw and Glitch. The palace walls were full of them, full of wonder at the return of their lost princess. They were just as full of vitriol for the other princess, Azkadellia, possessed and manipulated for annuals. Even with recent events, Azkadellia was not safe from the cruel whispers behind half lidded eyes and painted mouths. Whispers were biting, tearing her down to shreds. They told nothing of her sacrifice at the Northern Ice Floe, as she understood what needed to be done and did it. Petty people needed their petty hatred.

Caught up in her wandering, Ine'che found a warded set of rooms. They were clear but unmarked. The wards were no clue, either. She didn't think they were warded by the Sorceress. These felt much, much older. DG had given her free reign in terms of magic and wandering about the OZ, but Ine'che thought perhaps she should be there. She was learning as much magic as she could, and trying to learn how to make her own reliable travel storms. She still intended to return to the Mirror Zone to rescue Ozma from her predicament. She still intended to overthrow Lurlaine.

After a moment's thought, Ine'che began to unweave the ancient warding on the rooms. As she unraveled them, there was still no indication of what might be hidden.

She certainly didn't expect a room full of ancient emeralds of the fabled Emerald City and its weaponry.

Ine'che rewove the wards as she found them. DG had to be informed of this. They had the weapons. Now DG just needed an army.

Ine'che thought of the dozens of faceless servants tittering behind their hands in the corners of the rooms as she passed. She was an unknown entity, an oddity that no one really knew what to do with. DG didn't even know, really, though she knew she wanted to learn magic and she wanted to be a good ruler. She was learning to listen more, learning patience and diplomacy.

Ine'che stopped at the threshold to DG's rooms. The shadows seemed almost out of place, and reminded her almost of the Mirror Zone and its shifting shadowy servants that obeyed Lurlaine's every command.

And suddenly it clicked. Ine'che had an idea as to where DG could get her army.

Pounding on the door, Ine'che swept inside the room. She ignored the fact that DG was dressed in just a plain silk robe and that Wyatt Cain was currently dead asleep in her bed instead of alert and awake. He had run himself ragged trying to be a father to his son as well as protector to DG. They were talking about a wedding, which was just one more thing for him to worry about.

"This sounds important," DG mused, sitting down on a chair in her sitting room. "What is it?"

"I hadn't realized it was this late, so I apologize. But things seem to be looking up on the idea to begin a war."

"What are you talking about?"

"I found emeralds within this castle that have been untouched for many years. And I believe the answer for our army may lie with Lurlaine's many oppressed servants. Many of them might be willing to fight to depose her."

"The big question is who would run the place if she's gone. I'm not going to do it, and I don't want people thinking that's what this is about."

Ine'che hadn't thought of that question, and it gave her a slight pause. "The child is unfit as she is to rule. Perhaps if you gave her the stolen magic and memories back..."

"It's an idea. Assuming she even wants it."

"We can of course see what the local inclinations are among the servants there. It might be possible by travel through the Shadow Lands."

"The Shadow Lands? Where the ghost came from?"

Ine'che nodded. "The places between the Zones, the routes by which the travel storms take. If we travel by the Shadow Lands instead of storms, it might be easier to mask the approach. It may only take a few key servants to turn the tide in our favor. It might even avert a war."

DG didn't think they could avert war, especially given the decisive and nasty outcome of the last one. "We'll think on it. In the morning, we'll go see these emeralds you found, all right?"

Ine'che nodded. They would be able to carry through this plan sooner rather than later, and Queen Lurlaine of the Dawn Sanctuary would soon be deposed. She only wished more of her people were still alive to see it.

***

Lord Herman Siba, Viscount of Green Harbor, was a betting man. He was fairly tall, nearly six feet, and had dark hair and pale coloring. His eyes were just as light a blue as the current Crown Princess', and he knew he could fake interest as well as any other high noble at court. The Queen was a pale and uninteresting thing, but she held the power and the magic of the OZ. He had smiled and bowed and scraped much like the other nobles had, but inside had waited and looked for his time to move into power. Opportunities always presented themselves; he was the younger son of the Green Harbor Court, yet here was with the viscountcy. His older brother Bryant had been consumptive, so it was really just a matter of sending things along to their natural conclusion.

But then came the move that Azkadellia had made as the Sorceress, and really, what else could be done? The Earls had all been summarily killed, as well as some of the Margroves, and Lord Siba had no intention of following suit. He paid the taxes and sent the portions of crops asked for, and did everything a loyal and titled Viscount could possibly do for his Queen. She never seemed to notice his attentions as anything other than her proper due, and then shunted him back to Green Harbor when she dissolved the court.

The Queen liked the idea of Court, liked the idea of the nobility and courtly manners. The Queen had no idea what happened beneath the surface of it, that much was clear. She had no idea how court politics truly worked, had no idea who had been truly loyal to her. The Sorceress had killed all of those with frightening expediency, and there were few allies left. The remnants of the court were all still trying to find their place in the OZ, still trying to figure out where they fit with the new Crown Princess.

She was an Other Sider. It didn't matter that she had been born to the OZ and had been raised there until the Sorceress appeared. Her formative years were on the Other Side, and she didn't know the ways of court or their lands. She didn't know how to belong, how to rule, how to be the Crown Princess. This had nothing to do with the snub at her formal coronation ball the month before, none at all. She was uncouth, untutored, rough and tumble and unpolished. She was the sort of girl that Siba would take a tumble with, but nothing more. She was more like the servants in his manor than a Princess, let alone a Crown Princess. Siba would almost had preferred Azkadellia to remain as the Crown Princess, but she was half dead and it was uncertain how much of her was even capable of rule any longer. Too many of the simple people decried her presence, as if being possessed by a witch of formidable power was an easy thing to shake off. Even if Azkadellia was hale and whole, the people would never accept her as their leader. They preferred their Lost Princess, back from the dead and the Other Side, though they were ignorant rabble and wouldn't know how the OZ actually functioned.

Siba could try to exert his influence over the lovely, lost Crown Princess. It was a short step from Advisor to Consort, in his opinion. Easy access to the Princess would let him be irreplaceable. From there, it was only a matter of time before he could rule the OZ.

Green Harbor was such a tiny and insignificant place in the OZ. His ambition deserved a bigger and better place.

***

"What luck brings me here now?" Carol groused, looking up at the dark sky. She had been selling her wares with no luck; it was too cold, and those desperately lonely men willing to walk the back alleys simply weren't out and about any longer. It was too late, too cold, too dark. She knew she wasn't anything interesting or important, just another girl half-dressed in the alley trying to rub two coins together by the end of the night. It was impossible to channel her lack of skills anywhere, and her stepfather had already convinced her this was all she was good for. Common tale, nothing worth remembering or repeating.

A shadow detached itself from the wall and slid into hers. It oozed toward her feet, sliding smoothly through her shadow in the dim lamplight. There was no one to see the subtle difference in darkness, the play of dead black on black. The shadow curled around her stockinged feet, sliding a tendril along the inside of her knee.

Carol shuddered at the cold, peering into the dark. She had no money, nothing for food in the hovel she shared with six other girls. Each of them were just as starved as she was, just as hollow and empty and hopeless. She wasn't special in the least.

The shadow slipped beneath her skirt and crawled up her torso through the holes in her dress. She was thin, almost skeletal from lack of food, and it wasn't hard to dip into the angles where the bones of her ribs cast shadows against her skin. She might have been pretty once, might have been worth something once.

She could feel the cold against her skin, sharp and biting, as if it had teeth. It sank into her, the shivering setting her spine and teeth chattering against each other. She was so cold it was nearly burning, a cold fire against the thin skin covering her bones.

The shadow squeezed tight, tight, sinking beneath the chilled flesh and sliding into the empty spaces that should have had flesh. _Yes._

And then Carol straightened, gazed about the darkness with ink black eyes, and began to walk.

***  
***


	2. Finding A Path

DG let out a low whistle. "Ine'che, your powers of understatement are legendary."

The trove of emeralds and weaponry from the Emerald City was staggering. The room had been warded carefully and simply, to be found when needed and not before. The locket around DG's neck seemed to hum in sympathy with the emeralds that were locked away in that room. "I wonder why only the Emerald of the Eclipse was left out in the open, then," Cain said from DG's side. "There were all of these..."

"They were removed quite a long time ago," Ine'che said, shrugging. She had picked up on the human habit and it seemed to suit her fairly well. Though to be honest, much of humanity in the OZ made her want to shrug. They made little sense, the way they decried one sister for something that had been out of her control. Still, they were foolish creatures and at least were not long lived.

"I think it was too much power for whoever was in charge," DG said with certainty. There was no proof to back up that claim, but it didn't stop her from saying it. The sense of power in the emeralds was enormous, much as the Emerald of the Eclipse had felt powerful. A room full of those emeralds was a power to untold levels, and the ability to use that power had been lost generations ago.

"It's a pity your kind no longer reads or speaks the language of magic," Ine'che said with a sigh. "All Practitioners of old could do that."

DG looked around the room and rested her hands on a sword that was inscribed with runes resembling the picture language of the Ancients. "You could teach me, couldn't you?"

Ine'che made a face at the request. "This is difficult to try to teach, Princess. It would be like trying to teach breathing."

"But sometimes you do, right? I mean, you can teach someone to hold their breath or breathe properly to sing. Couldn't you try at least a little bit? Like Ozma taught me how to read knots?"

She nodded slowly. "And you have a sense of magic, at least. Colors, you said. So perhaps if we use that as a start, it may not be so difficult to teach you at least the basics of the Old Speech. Nuance might be beyond us, however."

"Well, I'm not expecting to be as fluent as you are. But at least know enough to use these things if I need to," DG reasoned. She turned to look at Cain, who was inspecting the weapons with a dubious eye. "Well? Do you think they'll work?"

He looked up and thought it over for a moment. "I think they survived intact. The swords and shields and armor are still useful. I'm not sure about the bows and arrows, but I wouldn't be an expert on that. The guns look like they'll still fire." He picked one up and looked down its sight at DG with a quirk of his lip. "I'd say this one is even lighter than the gun I have now, with a truer sight than my own."

DG came close as he put down the gun, her mouth quirked into a similar smile. "So hang onto it. You're going to be one of my Generals, you know."

"I would think that was obvious," Cain told her. "Though it's not as if you have many options."

"I was going to ask Glitch and Raw to help," DG said. "Kind of get everyone back together."

"As if any of us were ever far away," Cain said with a wry tone.

"You collect people," Ine'che agreed with a smile. "It's much the same way your ancestor did, actually."

"Dorothy Gale, you mean? The first Dorothy Gale?"

"That would be the one, correct," Ine'che replied with a smile. "I find it fitting that her namesake follows in her footsteps."

"And she grew up on the Other Side, too. She didn't know this Old Speech. She had to learn it, too, right?"

Ine'che shrugged. "I never met the girl, so I don't know. But I've never heard tell of poor communication between our kind. It might very well be that she learned the Old Speech from Ozma."

DG closed her fist around the locket Ozma had given her. "Well, I suppose it's only fitting, then. She helped my greatest-great-grandmother with the OZ, and I'm going to help her with the Mirror Zone."

Cain slid an arm around DG's waist and kissed the top of her head lightly. "And we'll be right here to help you do it."

***

The Shadow Brigade was a rather pretentious name for the motley collection of creatures that once had belonged to the Unseelie Court. They had scattered after the fall of the Court and the continued prominence of Queen Lurlaine. A handful had escaped to the OZ and remained in the shadows, hitching rides in the living when necessary. Riding the living had to be a careful decision, as it took too much energy for control over higher consciousnesses. Animals were easy to do, and plentiful. So the handful of Brigade members had survived this way.

A new pure shadow faerie arrived from the Mirror Zone, however. It wasn't well known, and took months to filter out to the countryside.

A Seelie Shadow, betrayed by the Queen for failure, had been resurrected by Princess Dorothy Gale. She now willingly chose to serve the Gale line, and the current scion of the line wanted to wage war against Lurlaine.

DG didn't realize it, but she was going to recreate the Unseelie Court.

The Shadow Brigade had pledged its allegiance to the Unseelie Court, not to a particular leader. As it was, the whispers about DG were at least pleasant ones. The humans had fought the Sorceress, who had possessed her elder sister. While the humans didn't trust the sister, they were willing to trust DG and the Queen.

Still, humans were ignorant of the Unseelie Court. They had no idea the shadows held teeth and claws. The humans were sheep, blind to the flow of magic and might, content to wallow in their meaningless lives.

_Our Court survives,_ Nati whispered to the darkness. _Do you not feel it? And the new Court will rise, drawing the remnants of the old to her. The magic flows now._

Nati was the eldest of the Shadow Brigade, and he held his fellows only loosely. As long as they didn't jeopardize any Brigade members or reveal their presence, he was content to let them wander the OZ's shadows and dark corners. Now, however, a Court was building. Revenge was at hand.

The Shadow Brigade needed to form again.

The Old Speech connected Practitioners and magical creatures. The OZ had too few Practitioners, too few that knew the ancient tongue. Nati hadn't heard any speech from the current OZ Practitioners. Still, he held out hope that they would learn it and they could plan properly.

The Shadow Brigade would be ready.

***

Azkadellia floated somewhere comfortable, though she knew she didn't belong there. Something had happened, something terrible, and she knew she had to get back. She just didn't know the way.

Aliana and Cliara sat there with her on the river's edge. Aliana lifted the water up, and Cliara froze it into little jagged icicles or bits of snow. Laughing, they watched it melt back into the water.

"You look troubled, my dear," Aliana commented. She had tried calling her niece once, but it had felt awkward on all sides. Better to stick to Delia or Dear.

"I'm forgetting something."

"The rabble are back at the gates," Cliara murmured, looking beyond them. "Shall I send them away?"

The rabble? Azkadellia didn't know who they meant.

But then she realized that they were seated in a small park, ringed on all sides with high stone walls, smooth to the touch and impossible to climb. Spikes were at the top, keeping everything off. There was a single large gate to this paradise, though no one else was present.

"I don't think you'd want them with us," Cliara continued. "I've rearranged some things so we could all be together. The others simply didn't fit."

The others, she realized, were not Practitioners.

Azkadellia sat there, still troubled, still feeling something was wrong. DG had needed her, but left her. DG wasn't in this place for sisters, this peaceful realm. Why wasn't DG there? She had promised they would be together now. Azkadellia felt a pain in her gut, as if she had been stabbed. This happened off and on, less so now than when she first arrived. She had no idea how long ago that was, thoguh she felt she should have known that.

Azkadellia felt her abdomen, smooth and whole. She thought there should have been a hole there, bleeding from a wound carved from ice.

Then the flash was gone. This had happened a lot in the beginning, too. It was like she had simply forgotten something vitally important, though she couldn't imagine what that might be.

"Oh, go send them away, Az," Aliana said, a mischievous twinkle in her eyes. "Cliara has all the fun sometimes."

A flash of ice and snow, tears and death. Something happened to her because of Cliara, she was sure of it. Aliana was the younger sister, the softer and weaker one. She bowed to Cliara's wishes, though she was capable of undermining them if she didn't agree. The sisters didn't always agree. Sometimes Cliara thought Aliana's wanderings were just to get her into trouble.

Azkadellia opened the gates, the rabble poured inside.

She dimly remembered their faces, Resistance fighters, Longcoats and random palace staff. They pushed past her, they shouted and railed. "You should have only taken their skills!" Cliara cried, angry. "You don't need all of them!"

She saw Zero there. "I got rid of you."

He grasped her arms and spun her about, shoving her up against the smooth stone wall. "I loved you," he rasped, eyes wild. What had she gotten rid of, then? "I loved you, worshiped you, wanted you on your rightful throne..."

"You wanted to kill my mother and sister!"

"Details," he sneered. "You didn't worry about that before."

"You're the one that did this, got them worked up enough to rush the gates."

"It needed to be done."

"Why?"

"You deserve the throne," he told her, leaning in to kiss her neck, his hands roaming over her. There was no corset to this dress, just fabric clinging to her like a second skin. He groaned in ecstasy, nuzzling her, his body pinning her up against the wall. "You will be great and powerful, and I will be at your side."

"Everything you loved wasn't me!" she gasped, unable to push him off. "It was her! An older her, bitter from being alone."

But most of Aliana had been ripped from her cruelly, so this was missing. Cliara's bitterness remained, but she didn't care for Zero or Azkadellia. She was stripping the rabble down, unraveling their souls to examine them as threads and patterns. Azkadellia had only guessed at her weaving. She had come close, and with time may have realized her mistakes and fixed them. Cliara didn't feel like waiting. She simply created a loom and began to weave a new piece of fabric for Azkadellia to slip into. Aliana looked on, leaving Azkadellia to deal with Zero. It wasn't their situation, and they were certain that she could handle it on her own.

That knowledge spurred her into action. She pushed Zero back, startling him. "I don't have use for this!"

"I can give you the ambition you lost!"

"I don't want the throne! I don't want you!"

Zero seemed to collapse in on himself at the words. "Not even a little bit?" he asked, hopeful.

"No, not even. I _have_ loves." Even as she said it and knew it to be true, Azkadellia wondered where they were. Why weren't they with her as they promised to be? Why did they leave her all alone?

No, that wasn't quite right. She wasn't alone. Callan and Della would _never_ leave her of their own volition. Ever.

"You're keeping me from them!"

"I only love you," Zero repeated, stepping forward. "I only want to please you."

"Then you'll let me unravel you," Azkadellia insisted.

He paled. "You did it once already..."

"That was clumsy, and I hurt you." She cupped his face in her hands, and he crumbled like a child after a nightmare. "I'll be careful with you."

"I love you," he repeated stubbornly. "I can help you."

"I know you can," she said soothingly. "But not as you are right now."

She had ripped out the truly virulent and unstable parts of him but this didn't make him any less dangerous. He was cunning and hateful, terrible and devious. He would do harm if he thought it would help her, though their goals were not the same.

He laid his hands on her hips and tried to pull her closer. "One last kiss before I die again?"

She didn't want to kiss him on the mouth. She tipped his head down and kissed his forehead. Though disappointed, he did accept it. "I'm sorry I don't love you the same way. I'll take good care of you."

He smiled at her, giving permission this time.

Azkadellia unraveled him slowly, carefully, reducing him down to patterns and threads. She pulled and twisted at it until the threads lay true. Any barbed edges were discarded at her feet. She brought the thread to Cliara, who finished weaving the others into a single piece of cloth.

"I knew you could do it," Cliara told her approvingly. "You just needed to let go of your fear of him. Most men are still like lost children inside."

"And what about the two of you?"

"What about us?" Cliara asked, whisking the Zero thread out of her hands. "You can't possibly want us reduced this way. We're Practitioners, dear. We'd overwhelm you. The _rabble_ overwhelmed you."

"So what do we do? I need to get back to DG. I need to help her. She wants to start a war with Faerie, she wants to take down Queen Lurlaine."

"We'll help her, of course," Aliana told Azkadellia with a smile. "We just won't be driven down to foundation threads."

Azkadellia shivered. She looked down and she was as naked as the other two. "So what now?"

"My dear," Aliana murmured, sliding her arms around Azkadellia's shoulders. "We'll take care of you. We'll help you. As equals, not as servants."

Cliara ran the last of the thread into the loom. She pulled out a final product, a dark blue fabric that Azkadellia loved. "Let's dress you properly for the outside world."

Aliana pulled the fabric over Azkadellia and it flowed like water. It wrapped itself around her, a second skin. Then it pushed itself beneath her skin, just beneath. Memories and abilities flooded her mind, and Azkadellia fell into Aliana's waiting arms. Aliana kissed her gently on the mouth, hands moving to cup her breasts. "Accept us as we are, as we accept you as you are. We'll be part of you, but equal parts."

Cliara grasped Azkadellia's hips and bent her head down to kiss her mons. "Your physical body belongs to your loves. They cover and protect you." She slid her fingers inside of Azkadellia gently, a lover's caress. "In time, you'll love us as more than sisters. Faerie is a wild place, with few rules." Azkadellia gasped as Cliara worked the last of the spelled cloth inside of her, fingers fast against her clit, her lips just above her fevered skin.

Aliana pressed a kiss to her temple. "You understand us, and we love you now." She stroked Azkadellia's breasts, making her even more wet and aching for Cliara's fingers. Azkadellia felt as if she was a proxy, as if the sisters had really wanted each other. But then the pleasure grew intense, and she came beneath their hands.

Once she did, the fabric made from soul threads was completely bound to her. Sex magic.

The sisters sat back and let Azkadellia collect herself. "Lurlaine discovered our niece had given of herself to your ancestor. That is the basis for your magic. But it's also tied to your physical body, to love and loss. Pain keeps you from growing, from regenerating yourself."

Azkadellia brushed her hair back, and she was wearing a dark blue dress. The sisters were back in their light blue dresses, as if nothing untoward had just happened. Maybe it hadn't. "And then sex regenerates you," she guessed.

"Well... Love. Happiness. Positive emotions," Cliara said.

"Lurlaine doesn't believe the truth," Aliana said. Her tone was mournful. "But she uses this theory to steal magic from Ozma."

"What?" Azkadellia looked between the two sisters. "Stealing like I did?"

"Yes. She's been taking Ozma's magic for thousands of years then forcing her to regenerate it to steal it again," Cliara told her. "This was the basis for our war."

"So how are we supposed to win now if you lost?"

"Surprise," Aliana whispered. "Water in a crack can split open boulders."

"We are three in one," Cliara told her. Azkadellia thought perhaps their faces were beginning to blur together into something indistinct. "Different aspects of water."

"But I'm not..." Azkadellia began.

"Air," Aliana began patiently.

"It's contains water. The breath of life contains water," Cliara finished.

"You hold the dual natures of air and complete our trinity," Aliana murmured. "Lurlaine doesn't know this."

"So what does that mean?"

Cliara's smile was downright lethal. "She'll underestimate you. And if we're lucky, it'll be just enough to kill her."

"Do we need to kill her?" Azkadellia asked quietly. "I don't want to kill anyone else if I don't have to."

Aliana touched her shouders gently. "She imprisoned us. She drove us insane from rage and pain and loneliness. No prison is secure. So yes, we must kill her. Otherwise, any mercy you show her will simply ruin the lives of your descendants."

Cliara cupped Azkadellia's face in her hands. "There's no other way."

"There must be."

"We _tried,_ Delia," Aliana said softly. "There isn't."

Cliara kissed Azkadellia's forehead in much the same way she had kissed Zero's. "Wake up, Delia. It's time to get started."

Wake up?

But Azkadellia took in a deep breath, feeling an ache in her gut and a fire in her lungs.

Her eyes opened, and she finally woke up.

***  
***


	3. Finding The Spaces Between

Lord Siba hurled a heavy glass paperweight across the room. It had been a simple enough request to speak with the Crown Princess and begin to speak to her of Advisorship or marriage. He was interested in both, and they were not necessarily mutually exclusive. He had some magical skill, always necessary to become part of the Royal Family, and he had a quick enough mind to be Advisor. He took care of Green Harbor, and it had gone from a tiny viscountcy to a thriving and bustling one. He could do the same for the OZ, could use his formidable connections within the merchant class and the baronetcies to the advantage of the crown. Many of the families owed him for his protection during the Sorceress' reign over the OZ, and he was only too willing to call in favors as necessary.

Only, he was denied.

The silly chit of a Crown Princess denied his requests and made it known summarily that she had no interest in discussing his intention to apply for Advisorship or his marriage suit. _I am adequately counseled and affianced,_ she had written in a hasty scrawl. It was unthinkable, and something that Lord Siba could not tolerate.

He would not be dismissed in six words. _Would not._

His servants scattered as the glass shattered against the wall, shards spilling across the parquet floor. "Clean that fucking mess up!" Siba growled at the slowest one.

They moved to do his bidding, of course. The people of Green Harbor listened to their Viscount and moved as quickly as they could. They tarried at their peril, as his early years had taught them. His older brother was a weakling, indulging the people. His older brother had rather been like the Queen of the OZ. People shouldn't be coddled, shouldn't be smiled at and expected to go along and do as they were supposed to do. People were lazy, idiotic creatures. They needed to be led with a strong hand, shown the way and molded into proper shape.

He moved to the parchment at his desk. He could call a Harvest Festival Meeting. He knew that the Barons of Ruby Gulch and Caronet would back him up, as they always moved to his command. It was customary to air complaints to the Royal family at the time, and the Queen and Crown Princess would have to listen to his request at that time. She couldn't just wave him away in six words, and she would have to consider him appropriately. If she _thought_ about it properly, she would see that he was simply the best candidate for her. She was an Other Sider at heart, and she simply didn't know what she was doing with the OZ. She needed guidance and instruction, and there was no other candidate that was worthy of the role but him.

***

Della found Azkadellia first, trying to lift herself out of bed. Callan was asleep at the foot of the bed, exhausted. "Delia?"

She looked at him almost wonderingly. "We're in Central City?"

He smiled and came closer, lifting her to a seated position. "Be careful, Delia. You've been asleep a long time."

Azkadellia traced the planes of his face. "I feel weak, not like I've been asleep."

"It was a coma of some kind. All the court physicians couldn't figure out how to help you." Della smiled at her, closing a hand over hers. "We've been with you this whole time, watching over you to make sure you're safe. We didn't trust palace security."

"I don't either," Azkadellia agreed. "We should wake Benji, shouldn't we?" She tried to reach over, but would have fallen.

"Careful, Delia. You'll have to work to get your strength back."

"I've been asleep a long time, haven't I?" Azkadellia asked.

"I did mention that, yes," he told her with a smile.

"But until I start to move, I feel fine," she complained.

"We'll work with you. And maybe your sister can help with the recovery. Her magic did a lot to help you." Della pressed a hand to her upper abdomen, where the ice javelin had pinned her to the wall. "You shouldn't have done that. You shouldn't have tried to save me."

"I love you," Azkadellia whispered. "Of course I would have done it."

With a sigh, Della nodded. He'd known she loved him, had known she loved Callan. "You scared me these past months. We were afraid you wouldn't wake up."

Azkadellia sighed. "I'm tired. I feel sleepy."

He cradled her in his arms and gently laid her down. "Let me wake Callan to see you first."

_In case you don't wake back up_ went unsaid.

Callan was groggy when Della shook him awake. "Bwuh? I didn't sleep on the job, did I?"

"You were _supposed_ to sleep there while I kept watch," Della replied, rolling his eyes. He nodded at Azkadellia. "Look at Delia, fool. _Look."_

Callan's eyes widened almost comically when he saw she was awake. "Delia!" He crawled beside her in bed and showered her face in kisses. "By the suns, we thought we'd lost you."

"Still sleepy," Azkadellia replied, smiling as she touched his face. "I'm so tired and weak."

"We'll get you strong again, just you watch."

"I love you," she murmured as her eyes slid shut.

"We'll be here for you when you wake up," Callan told her.

Azkadellia slid into sleep, and they all hoped it wouldn't be an extended coma again.

***

The ravens circled overhead, waiting for a lull in traffic before resuming their consumption of the large rat that had been hit by a delivery truck earlier that morning. One particular raven hung back farther than the others, patiently waiting. This raven, female at the moment, watched the others come closer. The alley was a shortcut for many delivery trucks, and the morning delivery rush wasn't over yet. Some of the ordineary ravens hung back with her, but those that didn't trust her crept forward, tantalized by the scent of death.

A truck lumbered won the alley, and the ravens scattered again. The extraordinary raven and her companions didn't have to move just yet.

The extraordinary raven could be leader if she liked. She could push, and the others would fall into line. But she had done that a long time ago, and she was no longer interested in any kind of leadership position. She had been male, female, raven, crow and rook. Once she had tried being a sparrow, but she hadn't liked that as much. Nor being a pigeon, falcon or hawk. She rather liked the dark, foreboding birds. She liked playing in the shadows at the edges of things. She liked knowing she had no right to exist in Central City like this, yet did.

She remembered when Central City had been Emerald City, when the Gale line had begun. Magic had been wild and untutored, shifting between Zones and kingdoms. Dorothy Gale's granddaughters had started the trend of solidifying magics hold on the Zones, and much knowledge was lost in the process.

Just as well. She didn't want to be found, anyway.

As the sun rose over Central City, traffic in the alley slowed down. The early morning deliveries were just about done.

As the extraordinary raven descended into the alley to eat, the ordinary ones followed. If this kept up, she'd wind up leading the entire flock despite herself. Perhaps it was time to move on. She could be a he again, or try being a crow.

After she ate her fill, she left the ordinary ravens behind. They didn't try to follow, and she passed by the palace. To her surprise, there were no mobats to assert their dominance over palace air space. Coming closer, she could only sense one mobat, a child, and it wasn't one she knew. The mobat seemed to be able to sense her as well, as it came closer to a window and hopped onto the railing of the balcony. Royal quarters, the raven surmised. The glimpse of the interior had sumptuous materials and fancy scrollwork on the furniture carvings.

The raven swooped down, becoming a male mobat to mirror the youngling on the railing.

_You are like me?_ he asked her, head cocked to the side. _No, you are not,_ he decided before the new mobat could say anything. _You feel different, not like my brothers and sisters used to. You are something different. Are you one of the Kith in this land? I haven't met any other of the Kith._

The new mobat shook his head. _I am not from your country._ And indeed, the male mobat's magical sense was from an entirely different Zone than this one, something almost familiar about it. It was a similar sense to the mobats that used to circle the palace skies, but it wasn't entirely the same. He couldn't put his finger on it.

_Few are,_ the youngling agreed solemnly. _My Princess calls me Midnight, for she healed me at such a time._

_Your Princess?_ the new mobat asked, amused. _You adopt royalty, then?_

The little one chuckled. _We've adopted each other. She strives to learn more, and to use her gifts wisely. She hopes to wake her older sister. That one sleeps too deeply to be natural._

Intrigued, the new mobat ducked his head. _And whatever do you do, then?_

The youngling chuckled, and launched himself up off of the railing. _I FLY!_ he chortled, pleased with himself. It was the way of younglings, the new mobat supposed. He launched himself up to match the youngling's height. _Yes, like that,_ he said, and then flew in a circle around the stranger. _My Princess tells me not to disturb her sister when I fly there. She doesn't yet know how to speak to me properly._

Oh, the new mobat was very intrigued now. _She can speak to you?_

_Well, not yet. But soon. I know she will, once she reaches full Practitioner status. She would do it faster if she wasn't busy planning things all the time, though._

_Such is the way of princesses._

_Yes, but MY Princess can fight,_ the youngling said with pride. _Mine doesn't just sit there waiting to be rescued._

_A good Princess, indeed,_ the new mobat replied solemnly. _May I see her?_

The youngling frowned. _My Princess is with Cain and shouldn't be disturbed. They get little enough time together. I can bring you to the other Princess, her sister. She always sleeps, so she won't be disturbed at all._

The new mobat followed the youngling out of curiosity. The new set of windows wasn't far away, likely just down the hall from the youngling's Princess and Cain. The new mobat took in the sight of the three people in the room curiously, but the youngling just swooped right in and landed near the thin pale man standing by the door. He smiled at the youngling with a wan expression, and kept his solitary vigil. The Other Princess was lying on the bed, and a dark man was lying beside her, his arms around her protectively.

And the Other Princess was made up of three souls.

The new mobat was glad he was sitting on a dresser. The Other Princess was sleeping, but it was an ordinary sleep now. He could see the faint tendrils of dark magic still clinging to her, and it had kept her bound in magical slumber for some months. The weaving had been unraveled, however, and now she was free to sleep off the exhaustion of it. Still, one soul was prominent, and there were two other distinct patterns buried within the weaving of the first. The youngling didn't know of magic, let alone ancient thread magics, and couldn't differentiate between the two. Of further interest were the two men with the Other Princess. They were mortal, ordinary and without magic. Yet some of the Other Princess's weavings were tight around them, protecting them and infusing them with an otherworldly sense. Perhaps it was unfair to count them both as mere mortals, as her influence was strong over them. Still, at their core was their mortality.

_They are most interesting..._ the new mobat murmured.

_Oh, please, say you can stay,_ Midnight pleaded. _It will be nice to fly with another. There's no other mobat to fly with._

_I am not really a mobat,_ the new one said, not willing to continue to delude the poor creature any longer.

_Then what are you?_

_I become things. Flying things. Ravens and crows and rooks, especially._

_Oh! A Bird Shifter. You're still a flying thing, and you can still fly with me,_ Midnight told him dismissively. _Have you a name?_

_No,_ the new mobat replied, too startled to make up something. It didn't seem fair that the youngling understood the nature of his existence without any awe or respect, but treated it as an ordinary event.

Unless it was.

_Do you know many shifters?_ the new mobat asked, as the youngling was apparently thinking of a name for him.

_Oh, there's the Dog Shifter and the Wyvern. They teach magic to My Princess. She's too good for the Dog Shifter, but he stays on because there's no one else to teach. Too few Practitioners in this Zone._

A wyvern? Something rippled and shuddered inside of the new mobat, something like knowledge he had tried to forget. And then it passed.

_I will stay,_ the new mobat said in a quiet tone. _I will stay and I will watch over this sleeping Princess. She intrigues me. And I will fly with you, and teach you the ways of flying that I have learned._

Midnight was overjoyed, in the way that the truly young could feel joy. He whooped and flew in circles, startling the pale guard at the door. As for the new mobat, he was very intrigued by the entire situation. It was new, and interesting, and a thousand times better than leading a flock of ravens or crows or rooks, no matter how intelligent the entire flock could be.

***

"What do you mean, you won't go to the Harvest Festival? You have to! There's a formal Meeting to be held there!" the Queen shouted at DG, who was looking at a roughly drawn map with Cain, Raw and Glitch. _Ambrose,_ the Queen thought. She should be calling him Ambrose, but it was all too easy to think of him as Glitch when he wasn't quite back to where he had been as Ambrose.

"We're busy, Mom," DG said, not even looking up from the map. She pointed to one section of it. "There. That looks like a good spot to cross. If she doesn't know we still have this map, then I'm fairly sure she isn't going to look in a Lunchpail Grove."

"Not to mention, it's a good place to stock up for food," Glitch said with a smile.

"DG! You have duties to perform for the OZ!"

She looked up then, eyes wide and clear and unafraid. "Of course I do, Mother," she said in a conciliatory tone. "That's why I have to do this. Considering how close the Mirror Zone and the OZ are, any of their inhabitants could come here seeking refuge. We're not equipped to handle that right now. So if we depose Lurlaine and get Ozma on the throne, their people don't have to leave." She came over and pressed a kiss against the Queen's cheek. "Can you make the excuses for me?"

The Queen sighed and nodded. "I always do."

"Thanks, Mother," DG chirped brightly. She moved back to the map of the Mirror Zone, standing next to Cain.

The Queen looked at the two of them, heads bent next to each other, occasionally looking at each other with the kind of glance she and Ahamo shared. She would have to talk to him about propriety. He was a Baron now, after all. With the rank came responsibilities and entitlements, and it also gave him enough cachet to begin to press a marriage suit. DG had already rejected three out of hand, but had to formally accept one to stop any further inquiries. She probably didn't realize that, and Cain couldn't be expected to understand such niceties.

Lord Siba looked dangerously unhappy when the Queen explained DG's absence as caring for her ailing sister Azkadellia. "She has duties to her people and our realm, Your Majesty," he said, voice tight with repressed anger.

"She also has duties to family," the Queen said, voice laced with disapproval.

Siba stood and faced the assembled peerage of the Queen's court. "This doesn't bode well for our future, if the concerns of her people matter to her so little. Is it because she's an Other Sider? Does she think she's too good for our attention and devotion to the House of Gale?"

The Queen bristled at that. Ahamo was an Other Sider and the Other Side had kept her daughter safe when she couldn't. These petty nobles refused to see that. "Lord Siba, your concerns are without merit."

"But are they really, my Queen?" Baron Winter of Ruby Gulch asked, standing to gain her attention. "She was raised on the Other Side, and even though it saved her life, it also set her apart from our customs. She doesn't seem to embrace our way of life. Perhaps she misses it there and wishes to return to that life?"

Before the Queen could answer that, the Baron Armin of Caronet rose to his feet. "My Queen, as much as it pains me to voice concerns about the governance of our land, I must insist on it. Your eldest daughter, the Princess Azkadellia was under the control of an evil Sorceress and even now is still in recovery from a mysterious illness no one knows anything about. Your youngest is now our Crown Princess, and she hasn't been seen since her introduction ball some months ago, when she disappeared partway through the evening. I am not sure that this bodes well for our country."

The Queen wanted to cover her ears and drown out the assenting murmurs in her court. She had never liked the back and forth of these sessions, and had usually left it to Ambrose to run.

Only, he wasn't Ambrose any longer, and she had to do this herself.

"And the new baronies!" one of the baronets called out, aggrieved. "Why should Bonafede, Keystone and Stoneveil be given to those who carry no royal or noble blood? Royal commendations would be thanks enough for that kind."

The Queen wanted to shout them down or simply walk out of the room. But that wasn't the way of royalty, and it wasn't how she wanted her time in court to be remembered. The nameless baronets and ladies in waiting all waited for her reaction. She had to do or say _something,_ even if the first thing she wanted to do was hide.

She stood and stared at every face in the room. "These concerns do not have merit. The daughters of the House of Gale have the best interests of the OZ at heart, and undertook great sacrifice to keep this realm safe. They will continue to do so, and the Crown Princess has important duties that she is currently attending to."

Siba recognized the implicit rules drawn in those statements. Put up and shut up had never sat well with him, and this was no different.

"Oh, I'm sure she does," Siba said, voice unctuous as he could make it. His insides were boiling, however. First the chit rejects him in less than ten words. Now she didn't even deign to show up. He curled his lip in derision at the Queen and decided to throw the gauntlet. "I just don't think these duties are of great importance to the OZ. I don't think the great House of Gale has the best interests of our people at heart any longer. I don't think any of the House of Gale are fit to rule."

There was stunned silence across the entire court.

The Queen repressed the urge to scream at Siba. "Are you _threatening_ us?" she asked when she found her voice.

"Stating a fact," Siba said, voice strong and sure. The Queen was still shaken, and he seized on that. "I wouldn't dream of undermining your authority, Your Majesty, but currently there doesn't seem to be any to undermine."

Despite the gasps of the ladies-in-waiting, there was no immediate outcry. The Queen was frozen in place, staring at Siba incredulously. She should do something, reprimand him or punish him, something. But her lips refused to work, and she couldn't think. "Get out of my court," she hissed finally, aware it was a weak response. "You are no longer welcome in my sight!"

Siba's lip curled in derision as he contemplated her. "Gladly. The OZ needs a strong hand in control, and this court is a farce I no longer wish to participate in."

And to the Queen's growing horror, Barons Winter and Armin joined Siba as he left the audience chamber. Some of the baronets left as well.

She sank down into her throne, throat constricted. What had just happened? What did it mean?

"If there is nothing else to discuss," she said in a voice that didn't sound like her own, "I will declare this meeting concluded."

And really, there was nothing else to say.

***  
***


	4. Shades of Darkness

Azkadellia thought perhaps someone else should be involved in her care than Callan, Della or DG, but they didn't trust anyone else to do it. Her tin men pushed her physically, exhausting her easily. DG would stop by and try to learn some of the ancient thread magics that Azkadellia knew. Neither really talked about why she knew it, or why DG had to learn it, or what they would do once Azkadellia was strong enough to make the leap to the Mirror Zone for DG's war with Queen Lurlaine.

In the meantime, the strange little mobat would sit and watch, contemplating Azkadellia when not in flight with Midnight. At first Azkadellia had felt her gut wrench at the sight of the mobat, remembering her lost children. It was likely why Callan and Della hadn't tried to run it off. It sat there, watching her, contemplating her, and Azkadellia remembered what it was like to have a flock of them surrounding her or pulsing beneath her skin, reminding her she wasn't alone.

After nearly a week of those inky black eyes staring at her, Azkadellia stumbled her way to the desk where the strange little mobat sat and stared at her. Amazingly enough, the old tongues came back to her easily, as if it hadn't been nearly half a year since the double eclipse. _What is your name, little one?_

_I have none,_ the creature told her, amused. _So you do know the Old Speech._

_I have not used it in many months._

_And you have much else to think of at the moment,_ he told her. _You should teach it to your sister. Her little pet itches to tell her all about his thoughts. I'm too old for such things._

Azkadellia held out her hand in the way of the old greeting, and it sniffed her open palm cautiously. _Yes, I saw this. The three-in-one. I have not seen such a thing in many an annual._

_You've seen this before?_ Azkadellia asked, almost afraid. The two sleeping Practitioners almost stirred, almost said something.

_Yes, but not here._

Midnight swooped into the room, cutting off whatever else the strange mobat would have said. _There you are!_ he chortled. _Come, then. Let us fly! It is time to fly again, Shifter._

Azkadellia looked between them, then at the inky black eyes of the strange little mobat. "Shifter?" she asked aloud.

_Flying shifter,_ Midnight said, landing on the desk and nodding. _All kinds of flying things, he said. So he's been teaching me all kinds of flying tricks he's learned from being those other flying things._

_Kind of him,_ Azkadellia murmured, looking at the strange little mobat.

_You are interesting as well,_ he told her solemnly. _Perhaps we have always been destined to meet._

_You believe in such things?_

_Destiny is a tricky thing, Princess,_ he told her. _It all depends on how you interpret it._

_Very true,_ Azkadellia agreed with a nod. "We can speak more about it when you've finished your flying lesson," she said aloud.

He regarded her with those unnatural eyes. _You do not fear this,_ he commented.

_Any ill will would have been acted upon by now,_ she told him honestly. _And perhaps we truly were destined to meet._

Laughing, the strange little one took to flight and left through the open window. Whooping with joy, Midnight followed him out.

***

Aliana recognized the creature, even as Cliara scoffed that it could possibly exist. Most Shifters could only stick to a single other shape, as Tutor could only shift to a dog from his human form. Ine'che shifted to a single human form from her wyvern shape. Werewolves shifted to a wolf from their human forms. That was simply the way of things.

There are other creatures, Aliana murmured. Other things, other creations outside of our realm. Lurlaine never wanted to admit it, but there are other Zones besides our own, other things that we never dreamed of.

No, Cliara replied, voice hard and even. There is no such thing!

Belen Tasilth.

Azkadellia didn't know why Cliara was so afraid, why Aliana even trembled at the name of the creature. "What? What is it?" Her tin men were in her sitting room, letting her bathe in peace. They didn't hear her speak aloud, which she did more often than not.

A creature from between the Zones, Aliana whispered.

A fantasy! A story you tell children to keep them in their beds at night!

A creature so old, Aliana continued over Cliara's shouting, that even Practitioners and Faeries are said to have learned their gifts from them. The Belen Tasilth are capricious things, powerful things, old things. There's a reason all sentient beings fear the dark. They say nothing can truly live in the dark, between the Zones, but they are wrong. The Belen Tasilth live between the Zones, beyond the edges of things, and they live in the darkness and feast upon the dead.

Azkadellia shivered despite the hot bath. "It didn't seem evil..."

Not evil, Cliara corrected, shooting Aliana a glare for mentioning the creatures. They are wrong in the sense that they do not have a sense of Time or Space. They simply Are. They do not grow old or consider things the way we would.

"You don't age much," Azkadellia murmured.

But we do, Cliara said, voice crisp. Magic preserves us, but we do. Spells and charms and prophecies contain us, hold us to a shape longer than the shape might necessarily hold on its own, but it cannot stop the flow of Time for long. All things die except for the Belen Tasilth.

Ask it if that is what it is, Aliana whispered, curling around Azkadellia's mind like steam. Ask it and find out the truth.

It might just kill her for presuming.

"It was amused by me," Azkadellia reminded them. "I doubt anyone kills the thing they're amused with."

I used to all the time, Aliana told her waspishly.

Ah, yes. That.

Azkadellia ignored them both and pulled herself up and out of the bath. That set the alarm bell ringing, and her tin men rushed right in to help her actually step out of the tub and towel off. Callan of course had something lewd to say, and pressed a kiss against her belly for good measure. Della's hands were strong against her back, touch light but still shattering. They helped her dress then sat her down at her desk for DG's magic lessons. She had also started in with the Old Speech, the language of magic and Practitioners. There was a lot she still didn't know, things that the sisters in her soul still hadn't seen fit to share with her. Still, whatever she did know, DG could know.

Well, she wouldn't mention this new thing, the Belen Tasilth. She didn't know what they were, exactly, and she didn't think this one particular example, if it truly was one, was going to harm them. She just hoped she wasn't wrong about that.

***

DG pulled Cain into her bedroom and locked the door with a simple spell. As surprised as he was by the move, he also wasn't very surprised. It had been a few days since they had done anything more than sleep together in bed, and DG had been eying him over the map and the plans they were making with Glitch and Raw.

DG seized his mouth with hers and attacked the formal dress he had taken to wearing about the castle. Cain pulled at the laces to her underbust corset. They came undone easily, and he slipped his hands between the corset and the dress beneath it. He smiled at DG's indrawn breath. "I like hearing that," he murmured. "It's been a few days."

"It's been _forever,"_ she corrected, attacking the belt to his trousers.

The dress itself was as simple to take off as it was to slide on. Cain pulled her from the sitting room area to her bedroom. He laid her down on the bed, settling himself down on top of her. He kissed his way down the side of her jaw to her neck, then down to her breasts. He suckled on one, making a contented noise when DG clutched the back of his head and arched into his mouth. She was making those little sounds of pleasure, and Cain slid his other hand down her belly to the juncture of her thighs. She was quickly growing damp, and he slid a finger inside of her. DG gasped and tilted her hips up slightly, giving him better access. He traced her folds, then slid his finger back inside of her. He moved it rhythmically as he sucked on her breast, and DG writhed beneath him. He moved his thumb against her moist clit. Her breath shattered as he crooked his finger deep inside her, and she came with a strangled groan. She had to remember how to breathe again.

Cain kicked off his clothing and stretched out on top of her again. He guided himself into her wet heat and thrust deeply inside of her. DG gasped and clutched at him, moaning at the feel of him inside of her. He moved to kiss her, full and hot and hungry. She responded, an arm around his shoulders, the other around his back. "We don't have much time," she gasped, moving to return his kiss.

"Got to make the most of it," he murmured, punctuating his words with deeper thrusts inside of her. "Close, Deeg..."

She dug her nails into his shoulder, her entire body tightening around him. "Wyatt," she moaned, head thrown back. "Almost..."

He came inside of her, and she wasn't close enough to orgasm yet. He thrust a few more times inside of her and reached to stroke her clit. DG made a keening noise, stiffening in his arms as she came.

As their breaths slowed, Cain gave DG a soft kiss. "This ought to hold you a while," he teased.

"Until tonight," she agreed with a grin. "You owe me some more spectacular sex to make up for the past few days."

"Someone's been too busy planning things."

"Well, we don't know enough about the ghost fairies. The one I have is off investigating for me."

He laughed and kissed her forehead. "Come on. Time to get dressed and see your mother. She sounded insistent about that meeting with us."

They hastily dressed and went to the Queen's antechamber, where she was sitting with Ahamo. He had recently returned from the outer provinces, and his expression was one of grave concern. DG hadn't even seen it this concerned when she had met him as the Seeker.

"This is civil war," the Queen told DG, her voice high and shrill. "There has never been civil war before! Never, in the entire history of the OZ! Not even in the time of the Ancients!"

"It's a handful of bratty nobles," DG said in a bored tone, not believing it could be serious. This was the OZ. They were locked into their customs and superstitions. She was the Crown Princess to these people, and they had looked forward to her upcoming rule. How could they possibly think of overthrowing her?

_"They consider you an Other Sider!"_ the Queen screeched. "Don't you understand what that means?"

"Um. No," DG said, staring at her. "Dorothy Gale was an Other Sider and she was accepted. Why is it an issue now?"

"That was a thousand annuals ago, and it was a different time. Now it's different. They don't want an Other Sider. They want someone from the OZ, someone that respects their rank and their rituals, and you don't. There's been no formal suit for your hand, no acceptance of that. And Azkadellia... We never said she's woken up, so the death threats at least stopped. But they don't want her, either. They don't want our family on the throne, do you understand? This is civil war!"

"Is this because I won't talk to that asshole Siba?" DG cried, eyes wide. "What a prick! He's out of his mind!"

"Whatever the reason, he's leading the charge," Ahamo said, settling a hand onto the Queen's shoulder. She was so upset she could barely speak coherently. "They're insular, these people. They don't like different, and we're just different now. It doesn't matter if he's a jealous rejected suitor. Right now, he's leading the uprising. If it's not addressed, it's going to get worse."

"I have other things that need planning, Dad," DG said, dismissing the concern. "I think we might have a plan for the Mirror Zone..."

"And you're going to have to come up with a plan for this Zone," Ahamo told her evenly. "Or there won't be any reason to fight another Zone."

That knocked the wind out of her sails. DG shut her mouth and nodded unhappily at her parents. "All right. All right," she repeated at her father's incredulous look. "I'll consider it, okay?"

The Queen obviously was unhappy with that, but Ahamo squeezed her shoulder in warning to keep silent. "Just do your best. You've saved the OZ twice now. Think you can do it a third time?"

DG laughed and grabbed Cain's hand. "Absolutely! We'll need to discuss things with Az."

The Queen sighed as they left the room. "He'll need to make a formal offer, dear."

"I didn't, and we still married," he reminded her. He pulled her into a tight embrace. "We'll just make the announcement in the morning. He's the Baron of Stoneveil now. It's an appropriate enough alliance."

The Queen buried her face in the crook of his neck and tried not to cry. "I can only hope so."

"They're good together. He's good for her. A calming influence. They're a good team, like we are."

She looked up at him with a wan smile. "You always know what to say to make things seem better."

"One of my many talents," Ahamo agreed with a grin. "C'mon, my Lavender Eyes. Let's go relax somewhere private..."

Startled into laughter amidst her tears, the Queen let herself be led out of the room.

***

Azkadellia managed to walk down the hall to DG's quarters with two walking sticks under the watchful eyes of Callan and Della. She had pushed herself relentlessly since waking up, and her two tin men were hovering around her in case she pushed too hard. They touched her and held her, but they didn't do more than that, as if afraid she would fly apart at the seams if they did. She was almost frustrated by being treated like an invalid made of glass. She wanted to scream, but thought perhaps everyone would come running thinking she was out of her mind or possessed again. That was the last thing she needed.

She crashed down onto a settee ungracefully and put the two walking sticks aside. DG had Cain, Ine'che, Raw and Glitch sitting in the room as well. There was a low table between them with the magical map of the Mirror Zone. Azkadellia didn't know why she was there, as DG hadn't really mentioned too much about the upcoming war she wanted to start. Mostly she tried to keep Azkadellia company as she ran through her exercises and tried to make sure that Azkadellia was comfortable.

"All right. I suppose we'll start," DG said, pushing her hair behind her ears. It was a nervous gesture, and Azkadellia's gaze sharpened. The two Practitioners within her also stirred slightly. "You know I've been trying to plan a concerted attack on the Mirror Zone. Apparently, now I need to plan the defense of the OZ."

"Raw doesn't understand," he complained, head tilted to the side. "They may not be able to wage war here."

"Not the Mirror Zone," DG corrected, shaking her head. "Though I'll need to figure that out, too. I don't trust Lurlaine even as far as I can throw the bitch. No, I mean there are people _here_ that are moving against the royal family. They're going to start a civil war."

Azkadellia blinked and her other selves were shocked awake. "That's... unheard of."

"Never at all, Mother said," DG agreed. "But these nobles are bratty and don't like us."

"Who would do such a thing?" Glitch asked. He hadn't been at the Harvest Meeting, so this was news to him.

"It's Lord Siba and his cohorts," Cain told the others. "Because DG is considered an Other Sider, and..." He grimaced as he looked at Azkadellia.

"And no one wants me alive, let alone Queen," Azkadellia replied evenly. "It's all right to say it. I know how they feel."

"Well, _we_ don't feel that way," DG said quickly. Azkadellia suppressed the urge to roll her eyes at the obvious statement. Really, she didn't need to be coddled.

"We sure don't," Glitch added, turning to face her. The zipper along his skull winked at her, and Azkadellia tried not to feel guilty about that. "But Lord Siba, he won't be an easy one to get rid of. He always had a cruel streak, even with his own people."

"Lovely. The asshole is a sadist," DG grumbled, throwing up her hands. "Just the kind of person we _don't_ want in charge."

"My people wouldn't help him," Raw said, shaking his head. "They would help the royal family how they can. Maybe view something..."

"Not if it hurts you," DG said firmly. "We can do without it."

"They might be using a Viewer, though," Cain said, frowning. "It's a possibility we hadn't thought of."

"Green Harbor is isolated, but it's not _that_ isolated," Azkadellia agreed. "We'd always had our doubts about that one."

"We?" Glitch asked, even as the others politely glossed over the pronoun. "Is that a royal we?"

"Yes," DG interrupted. All eyes swung to her. "Now, we need to figure out what we're doing about Siba. He won't stay quiet for long."

"He'll move quickly, while Mother is unsettled," Azkadellia told them flatly. "He has an aggressive streak."

All of the tin men in the room turned to look at her. "How do you know that? No one's ever leveled charges..." Callan began.

"No one would. He's a _viscount,_ and that sort would never come under the purview of a tin man," Azkadellia replied, shaking her head. "But it had been worth my while as the Sorceress to keep tabs on all the nobility, even after the court was dissolved."

"That's a smart move in an unstable government," Ine'che remarked when everyone else fell silent.

"Well, I thought so," Azkadellia said, nodding. "So I could probably tell you who is most likely to fall in with him based on how it was several months ago when I was still the Sorceress. I don't think they would have changed alliances that quickly."

"Yeah," DG said after a moment, nodding. "This is why I need your input. You know the OZ best, how they'd think."

"Plus everyone thinks you're practically dead," Glitch said with a smile. "So no one would ever think you're involved. Your safety won't be compromised at all."

"She has us for safety," Della growled.

"We're getting off track," Cain said, cutting off the conversation before it could derail further from the point. "The fact is, Lord Siba practically announced he's starting a war. It's only a matter of time before he starts something."

"Act first," Azkadellia said, looking at DG. "Mother shouldn't have let something like that go unpunished. It's only going to get further out of control until there's an actual war on your hands." She spoke plainly, and DG had no doubts that it was good advice.

She couldn't bear to do it, though.

"I can't just haul someone out for speaking out of turn."

"If you don't give a show of strength now, you will lose them," Azkadellia insisted. "Once you've lost them, the nobles will gear up for an actual war, and they might even take it to the city gates. We can't afford to let that happen. Too many people would die if that occurred."

DG looked at everyone in turn, and Raw was nodding. "Raw? What is it?"

"Panic and death. Dark shadows moving." He ducked his head slightly. "It hurts to see, but it looks too real. It's most certain if nothing happens soon."

"But what are you talking about, show of strength?"

Azkadellia hesitated and Ine'che sighed. "It's death, isn't it? The only way to punish treason in any Zone."

"I can't do that!" DG cried, horrified. She looked between the two of them, then at the tin men sitting stoically in a circle. "That's just insane. I can't just go around killing everyone."

"Do you think keeping him in prison is going to help?" Azkadellia asked softly.

"More angry that way," Raw murmured, shaking his head. "He's already mad at you for not liking him, for not talking to him."

"It made the sisters insane, being kept locked up for so long," Azkadellia said softly, not even looking at Raw. "And no matter how long you keep him locked away in a prison, it only makes him a martyr to his friends and a rallying cry to whoever they can convince to move against us."

It had already been three days since the Harvest Meeting. DG didn't want to think of how much more damage could be done because her mother couldn't strike fear into her nobility. "God, politics are such bullshit," she grumbled irritably. Cain couldn't help but smile at that, and the other two tin men snorted.

"Maybe, but you're Crown Princess now. It's your headache, if Mother can't deal with it," Azkadellia murmured. "I'd help, but..."

"But you have to stay in a coma as far as the public is concerned. They'll call for your death otherwise," Glitch said, expression grave. He seemed almost like Ambrose then, the calculating Advisor that helped the Queen concoct her desperate plan to save DG and escape the Sorceress. "You have to help behind the scenes. Behind the curtain, so to speak."

"Your shadow servant and mobat might be able to move quickly tonight," Ine'che murmured. "See where they are in the planning stages. It might not be too late to end it before it begins."

"Central City is loyal to you, DG," Cain said, taking up her hand and squeezing it tightly. "You know that."

"The northern counties are as well," Della added. "When we went there, the Northern Outpost was one of the last strongholds. It might be burned down, but not everyone died that night. We can do what we can to gather more support there."

"Some of the eastern counties are probably still loyal," Callan said. "Green Harbor is the westernmost county, and most likely its allies are western as well."

"The Harbor will run with blood if this goes too long," Raw said, frowning. The future was starting to shift even as he tried to View it.

"So we'll check on them tonight, when it gets dark," DG said with a decisive nod. "And if he's really plotting something, I move. I won't let anyone die here because someone doesn't know their place in the grand scheme of things."

No one commented on what her move would likely have to be. That was a dark path no one was enthusiastic about taking.

***  
***


	5. Naming Things

_Do you have a name?_ Midnight asked the wisp of shadow coming with him as he flew from the palace intending to move across the OZ.

_none left to give in introduction, as my lady has not yet named me or given full form. but i am sure she will when she thinks of it._

_Oh. I think I like Shadow for you. Goes with Midnight, really,_ Midnight said with a nod and smile. _And you talk funny. Maybe we can find our Princess and she can fix it so you don't talk funny._

_this is as i have been before, half thoughts unspoken in your mind..._

_That's not good. It should be proper speech. How else will things get explained well?_ the mobat added with a chuckle. He stopped when he caught erratic movement out of the corner of his eye. _What's that? Humans don't move like that._

_the girl is ridden by shadow, i can speak with it._

Before Midnight could protest, the shadow fairy slipped down from the sky and glided toward the human that was walking on broken ankles toward the palace. It had been a girl once, painfully thin, probably half starved. It looked as though she had been walking for the past week or two nonstop, and other humans were shying away from the girl. Midnight wanted to swoop down to see what was going on, but the Princess had ordered him to stick to the skies for safety. The Sorceress had mobats before and no one had liked her. The Princess hadn't wanted Midnight to be hurt if the other humans did something silly like try to shoot at him.

The shadow fairy slithered down to the girl as she lurched toward the palace. It froze in place as the girl's black eyes swept over it. _one of the Shadow Brigade here,_ it asked in shock.

The girl's mouth opened, and the shadow could see that she had died sometime in the past day. _I seek the Unseelie court. I know it lies in this city, I know it lies close._

_but to ride a mortal girl to death is punishable,_ the shadow fairy began.

The shadow riding the dead girl's corpse laughed, a horrible sound in the darkness. _Nati is not here to condemn or punish. And she would have died of starvation without my intervention. It isn't my fault it took this long to find the location of the Unseelie Court. They do not use the proper speech often enough._

As this was being said, a dark figure glided down from one of the palace towers. The shadow fairy had known that there was _something_ new and unsettling within the castle walls, and Midnight had gone on about a new mobat to fly with. The fairy hadn't realized that they were one and the same.

The dead girl froze in place as the new mobat shifted into a vaguely humanoid shape in front of it. _Oh, you are an interesting one, aren't you?_ it asked, black eyes glittering strangely in the weak starlight.

The shadow fairy was startled, and hopped backward. _my lord, i was not aware of your presence..._

The creature laughed, a sound like ends of broken concrete rubbing against each other. _Of course not. I did not wish it so. The children of my realm are such wild, reckless creatures._ It reached out and grasped the dead girl by the throat, lifting her up. The limbs flopped about like a rag doll's, and then the body slid down to the ground. The shadow that had been riding the corpse was left behind in the creature's grasp, flailing and grasping at its hand. _I do not like having to chastise my thoughtless creatures, but I must do it on occasion._

_my lord?_ the shadow fairy asked, concerned.

_Fly with my friend,_ the humanoid creature replied. _I will take care of this one and summon Nati. I suppose he should keep tighter control over Brigade members here. I don't like it when they're messy enough to be caught._ As the shadow fairy fled back to Midnight's side, the creature snapped his fingers, breaking the shadow into two pieces. Each piece then dissipated into smoke.

The creature shifted back into a mobat's shape and flew back up to the tower it had descended from. It had been watching over the Princess Azkadellia. It found her fascinating, and couldn't wait to see how the current mortal politics would play out. It had been bored for so long, it had no intention of having its fun thwarted by clumsy shadows alerting the dull populace to the magics that lay dormant in the shadows of the city.

***

Azkadellia frowned at Della, who was changing the sheets on the bed. "I could summon a servant to do that. Or use magic."

"I don't trust the servants here," he said, pulling the last sheet into place. He turned and picked up the comforters. "And that's just a waste of your magic. You should save it and rest up."

"You're kidding, right?" she asked, throwing up her hands. "You treat me like an invalid. This is getting sickening."

"Delia..." he began in a placating tone.

"No, I understand. Really, I do. But you treat me like I'm made of spun glass, and I promise you I won't break if you touch me."

Della dropped the comforters in a messy pile on her bed and went to where she was sitting at her vanity table. She scooted over a fraction so that he could sit beside her. He took up one of her hands in his. "We almost lost you that day. You shouldn't have tried to save me like that."

"I'd do it again in an instant," Azkadellia replied, looking at him with large eyes. She brought his hand up to her lips and kissed his knuckles. "I would never want you to go through that."

He cupped her face with his other hand. "And I would've rather she attacked me than you. So I guess we're even," he said with a wry smile.

Azkadellia leaned forward and kissed his lips. It was gentle at first, then she opened her mouth and deepened the kiss. She let go of his hand to wrap her arms around his shoulders. She sighed contentedly when his hands came to rest around her waist and his tongue slid into her mouth. "I won't break," she murmured against his mouth. "I promise you I won't."

Della ran his hands along her back. He almost missed her corsets, but was glad that she hadn't yet returned to wearing them. He could feel the curve of her ribs through the fabric of her dress, could feel the bumps of her spine. She was almost too thin, but was regaining the lost weight and muscle. He supposed she was stronger than he and Callan supposed, but he couldn't help but feel protective of her. In his nightmares, her blood still pooled beneath her and DG never made it to her side on time.

Callan returned with a basket from the kitchens and put it down on her desk. "Hm... Looks like a party. Mind if I join?" he asked, coming close enough to rest his hand on her shoulder.

Azkadellia broke her kiss with Della long enough to turn and smile at him. "I'd be angry if you didn't, Benji."

Callan grasped her about her waist and pulled her from Della's grasp. He swung her about in a circle, grinning when she squealed and laughed. "I see fresh sheets. I say we break them in," he murmured, leaning down to kiss Azkadellia's neck. "I am assuming that's the point of your attacking Della like that? Hm?"

"You're just as bad as he is, not letting me do anything," Azkadellia said, gasping when he ran a hand along her breasts.

Della stood up and tugged on the laces to her dress. "Well, we do have reason," he told her in a rumbling voice. "Is the door locked?"

"Of course. Bolted in three places as usual," Callan replied, pushing the dress down from Azkadellia's shoulders. "And no one followed me from the kitchens, or even looked at me while down there. They're used to me by now."

Whatever Azkadellia might have said in response was swallowed up by Della kissing her on the mouth. Callan grasped her bare breasts in his hands as her dress fell to her feet. Della's hands moved down her sides to rest on the curve of her hips, just over her panties. "Bed," she gasped when the kiss broke so they could breathe. "I can walk the six feet without a walking stick," she insisted when Della would have moved to get them.

While Della would have preferred she use a walking stick or let one of them carry her, he understood that stubborn tilt to her jaw. She had her sense of pride, and she was getting stronger. Azkadellia walked forward, though the final steps were by sheer force of will. Tired, she sprawled across the silk sheets. Callan and Della settled on either side of her, their arms cradling her. Della moved to kiss her mouth, one hand snaking down to slip beneath the edge of her panties. Callan bent down to take a breast into his mouth, one hand moving beneath the edge of her panties as well. She arched into their touch, and it didn't matter whose fingers were where. There was one against her clit and one inside of her and she could barely breathe. It felt better than she remembered. She held onto them, an arm around each set of shoulders, her fingers digging in hard as she gasped for breath. Della's tongue was in her mouth and Callan's was stroking her nipple and she was slick and wet beneath their fingers.

She came, cry swallowed beneath Della's mouth, her body clenching down hard around the fingers inside of her. The fingers at her clit didn't stop its stroking rhythm, and Azkadellia could only moan in response. Her entire body shivered, her head falling back as she tried to gasp for breath between moans of pleasure. Della kissed his way down the side of her neck, until he was at her bared breast. He took it into his mouth as well, head bumping into Callan's. Callan shifted, moving up to nibble on Azkadellia's earlobe. "Waiting for us, were you?" he asked, breath hot against her ear. "Ready all this time for us. Do you want us inside you, Delia?" he asked, tongue flicking out to trace the edge of her earlobe. She gave a wordless moan in reply. "Hm... Sounds lovely, Delia," he murmured as she came again with a groan, body tightening.

They moved their hands to drag down her soaked panties and Della moved to place his mouth at her swollen clit. She cried out as he began to suck on it, and Callan shifted position so that he was supporting her body on the bed. He kissed her shoulders and his hands teased her nipples relentlessly. She came with a startled cry, Della's tongue moving along her wet slit.

"You first," Callan murmured to Della, his lips at Azkadellia's shoulder. "I think it'll be a bit much for the both of us at once."

Della nodded and stripped off his clothing. He gave a soft sigh as he slid inside of Azkadellia, his hands at her hips to hold them steady. He moved slowly at first, sliding in and out of her, not quite ready to move quickly. But she reached out with one hand to grasp at his arm and pull him closer. The other was curled around Callan's shoulder, fingertips digging in tightly as she writhed beneath them. Della took it as permission to move faster and deeper inside of her, and Azkadellia gave a delicious moan of pleasure in response. It had been much too long since he'd been with her, and Della spilled inside her sooner than he would've liked. Callan switched places, and Azkadellia gasped as he slammed into her. Della held onto her, mouth slanted over hers. Between the two of them, she was almost overwhelmed by the pleasurable sensations. She came again, clenching down tightly around Callan's cock, and he sputtered as he came soon after.

Azkadellia laughed once she was able to catch her breath. "See? I'm fine." She stretched out, feeling wonderfully tired.

"Sorry, Della," Callan said after a moment with a laugh. "We got the clean sheets all messy. You'll have to change them again."

Della swatted Callan's arm. "Your turn to play domestic, man."

"Nah," Callan returned, brushing his arm aside. "You'll just lay in the wet spot."

"Shut it, you two," Azkadellia said sternly, though her smile belied her tone. It felt good to hold them like this, to have their banter lighthearted and not tinged with worry that something terrible was about to happen to her. She supposed it was just that she had been so long asleep that they were afraid she would succumb again.

She waited until they were both asleep before pushing herself up to a sitting position. It was exhausting to walk back to the vanity table, but she pushed herself to do it. Shaking, she picked up her discarded dress and put it on as best as she could. She tied the laces loosely around herself and tried to gauge the distance from the vanity table to the balcony. It was possibly too far for her at the moment. _I know you're there. Were you watching the whole time, then?_ she asked, looking at the open balcony doors.

Midnight's mobat companion hopped into the room. _Not the entire time, but I saw enough,_ he replied in an amused tone. _They are quite devoted to you. It's a rarity in these troubled times._

Azkadellia nodded. _Could you come here? I don't think I could walk that distance without collapsing._ She nodded her thanks when he came closer, lighting onto the table next to her. _Are you one of the Belen Tasilth?_ She ignored the stirrings of the Practitioners and looked at the creature with a curious expression.

The mobat laughed openly. _Brave thing, aren't you?_

_Curious,_ Azkadellia corrected. _You haven't talked much about yourself at all. Or even given a name._

_I have no need of one,_ the mobat replied, clearly amused.

_And you still haven't answered my question._

_Does it matter?_ the creature replied, lofting an eyebrow in a curiously human expression.

_Are you afraid of telling me?_ Azkadellia asked, leaning closer.

The creature laughed openly again, then reached out and petted Azkadellia's cheek. Her eyes widened and her breath seized in her chest; it was too much like her lost children, the creatures that had been ripped from her so unceremoniously along with the Sorceress. It still pained her to think of them, and the casual touch reopened the wound.

_You are foolishly brave, little Practitioner. Are you going to be as brave when the Shadow Brigade comes? When they insist on serving you and your sister?_ He smiled at Azkadellia's surprise. _Oh, the two of you are getting into some Very Big Things these days. Not only in your own country, but across different Zones. You two are quite amusing, really._

_So glad I amuse you,_ Azkadellia replied wryly. She looked over at a faint sound Callan was making. They would likely wake soon, missing her from their little huddle.

_There is little enough to amuse a Belen Tasilth,_ the creature said, and Azkadellia snapped back to look at him. _Oh, yes, little Practitioner. Your guess was correct. Did your other souls tell you?_ Azkadellia nodded slowly. _Did they tell you to be afraid of me?_ He laughed when she nodded again. _They always fear what they don't understand._

_Should I be afraid?_

_I don't think so,_ the Belen Tasilth replied, laughter inherent in its voice.

_You keep saying I amuse you._

_Oh, yes, you do. Every time I think this realm bores me, something happens to strike my interest all over again. I like seeing things emerge from the shadows. I like seeing how my lost children find their way._

Azkadellia cocked her head slightly as she considered the Belen Tasilth. _You may not have a name, but what should I call you? 'It' isn't respectful at all._

_Would you show me respect?_ the Belen Tasilth asked, voice arch with amusement.

_You have more skill at magic than I do. And you're older than any part of my soul,_ she added with a wry smile. _I most certainly should respect you._

The Belen Tasilth gave a startled bout of laughter. _You are indeed very lucky I like you. I think I know why that is now._

_Why is that?_

_You remind me very much of my lost daughter. She died a very long time ago,_ the Belen Tasilth murmured, reaching out and touching Azkadellia's cheek. _She had that same spark of life, and it ultimately was the only thing that saved her adopted homeland from shattering._

_What was that place?_ Azkadellia asked, voice quiet in respect for the Belen Tasilth's pain.

_She called it her Sanctuary, and others called it Faerie. With her last breath, she anchored it to the heart of the Mirror Zone. She was known as Titania to most of her subjects._

_Then perhaps there's a reason I remind you of her. Her granddaughter gifted my family with her magic. Ozma is the one we wish to free in the Mirror Zone,_ Azkadellia murmured.

_Oh, this I know,_ the Belen Tasilth said, voice heavy with grief. _But the child Ozma is no longer my great-granddaughter. That child died a very long time ago. The girl that remains walks about in her shell, and it is sentimentality that keeps me from breaking apart the revenant. At least her face remains._

_I'm sorry,_ Azkadellia murmured, and meant it.

_So am I,_ the Belen Tasilth murmured. _You may call me Ataio._

At the risk of being disrespectful, Azkadellia clasped Ataio's hands in hers. "Thank you for the gift of your name," she whispered. _I will do right by the Old Ways. I'm trying to teach my sister the Old Speech._

Ataio smiled and let a fraction of his power loose through his hands into her body. It startled her, and she was too surprised to scream. _I know you would do right by the Old Ways. No Practitioner could do any less. Walk to your lovers, child. I will speak to you later. I will visit your sister now. The Shadow Brigade is coming, and she has created the Unseelie Court anew._

Azkadellia gasped when Ataio let her go and then disappeared. She walked back to her bed with unsteady legs; they didn't feel tired or heavy or even like her own, even if they were. She woke Callan when she plopped back down on the bed between her tin men. "Hey," he said, and suddenly was startled to full wakefulness. "You're dressed!"

She laughed. "Well, yes." She jostled Della's arm. "C'mon. I have something to tell you two. And then we have dinner to eat."

***

DG was sitting on her bed in a fairly sheer nightgown and Cain was sitting behind her, massaging her shoulders. "That feels good," she murmured with a smile. "I didn't think they were that tense."

"Well, it's not as if you enjoy the thought of declaring war on anyone." He dropped a kiss onto the base of her neck. "You might be a fighter, but not exactly the best when it comes down to the logistics." He laughed at the disgruntled noise she made. "That's what you have all of your Advisors for, right? That's why we're going to plan this thing out very carefully."

DG opened her mouth to reply, but stopped and frowned. "Did you hear that?"

"No. Deeg, there's no one else here."

DG got up with that frown on her face. "It almost sounded like a voice."

Cain sighed and reached behind him for his discarded sleep pants. DG had that determined expression on her face again. There definitely wasn't going to be sleep or any play activities for a while yet. "What did it sound like?"

"Old," she said, unable to really describe it. "But I couldn't tell what the words were."

"There's no one else here. But it looks like Midnight might have come back early."

DG looked over to where Cain pointed, then shook her head. "That's not Midnight. That's his new friend, the one that was hanging around Az's room a lot. Hey, little guy. Was that you, making a noise?"

Cain sighed as she knelt over the mobat and picked it up in her arms. Give her a lost soul or an orphan creature and DG was all smiles and coos. Ine'che was right. She collected people. It was an endearing trait most of the time, but not when he was planning on eventually getting rid of the flimsy nightgown when she wasn't as tense any longer. "I didn't hear any noise."

It looked like a flash of light as the mobat grasped DG's face. She let out a little shriek of surprise, her hands flying apart. "What did you do!"

Cain caught her in his arms as she stumbled backward. They both looked up as the mobat flew in a lazy circle above them. It seemed to be smirking at them. _I admit, I was a little impatient. I don't wish to wait for your sister to teach you the Old Speech. I had to find the memory and unlock it for you._

"Can you hear that," DG asked Cain.

"The wings flapping?" he asked, eyebrow raised in concern.

"No, he was talking to me. Only, in my head somehow. Like my ghost fairy, but softer."

_That creature lacks much finesse. You should really give it back to her._

"Okay. You _had_ to have heard that."

Cain only shook his head and looked up at the mobat. "Sorry, darling. Mobats can't speak."

_Not with tongues mere mortals understand,_ the mobat said with a laugh. _But you are a Practitioner, however untrained. It simply had to be reawakened. I wished to speak with you, Princess Dorothy Gale, Queen of the Unseelie Court._

"Whoa. I'm not Queen of anything yet,"

The mobat hovered at arm's length in front of DG. _It is disheartening that you insist on using a baser language than the Old Speech. Especially considering I just went through the trouble of unlocking the skill for you. Really, just try using the proper language of magic,_ the mobat said, rebuke clear in its tone.

DG pressed her lips together in an unhappy expression. _Um... How's this? It feels like I'm thinking at you really, really hard._

He laughed at her. _Much better. It's a whisper. I'm sure with time you'll be more accustomed to the Old Speech. You'll have to be, to control the Unseelie Court when they arrive._

_You mentioned that... What is it?_

_The ones that have gathered to oppose Queen Lurlaine, of course,_ the mobat replied. _I've spoken with your sister at length already, but she is not the one that is calling the war with the Mirror Zone, so she will not rule the Unseelie Court. That falls to you, as you are the one that is willing to risk your current sovereignty to invade Lurlaine's territory._

To Cain, it appeared that DG was simply staring at the mobat intently. When she looked startled suddenly, he looked between the two of them. "What is it?"

"He says I'm Queen of the Unseelie Court," DG said, looking at Cain unhappily. "I didn't ask to be Queen of something else!"

_Responsibilities are rarely asked for,_ the mobat told her gravely as Cain stroked her arm gently. "Just because you didn't ask for the role doesn't mean it doesn't belong to you," Cain said. He left to get her a robe when she shivered. _I like this one, too,_ the mobat said, amused. _You and your sister have both chosen level headed companions._

"Glad you approve," DG said to the mobat dryly as she shrugged into the robe Cain brought her. "The people around here don't seem to."

_Petty minds,_ the mobat said with a dismissive wave. _I've watched them for centuries. They're a boorish lot and never improved._

_So you're as long lived as Ine'che, then?_ DG asked, switching back to Old Speech. The mobat was right. It felt a little easier to direct the thoughts at the creature now.

_Oh, I am older than that. She would know of my kind, perhaps. The tales were old enough by then to have been forgotten, but some of the old Practitioners still remember the tales._ The mobat shifted into a vaguely humanoid shape, which startled both DG and Cain. Cain shoved DG behind him, even though he was barely dressed and had no weapons but his own two fists. The figure chuckled. _Oh, you are definitely a most amusing collection. I am quite glad I left the ravens behind._

_Ravens?_

_Dark creatures are so much more interesting, aren't they? But for creatures of Light, your motley crew are fascinating._

"Glad we meet your approval," DG said in a wry tone, pushing Cain's arms down to his sides. "It's all right, Wyatt. He thinks we're _fascinating."_

"Lovely," he returned in a sarcastic tone. "Any other shapeshifting creatures we'll be meeting along the way?"

The creature laughed again. _I cannot tell the future, little one. But your shadows belong to me, even if they are unaware of it. You send a broken one to do your bidding in the east._

_Recon mission,_ DG replied. _I don't want to hurt anyone I don't have to._

The creature leaned forward. _I tell you this, little princess. You will have to._

_Why?_ DG asked, shaking her head. _Everyone thought the Sorceress had to be killed, but I was able to save my sister. I can do this._

_Oh, little princess,_ the creature said, shaking its head. _Talk with your sister. Perhaps you did a few favors, but she is not the sister you remember. Not everyone can be saved._

Not waiting for a reply, the creature shifted back into a mobat and flew out of her room. DG ran forward and locked the balcony doors shut, though she supposed the creature could easily undo the locks if he really wanted to.

"What was that all about, then?" Cain asked, crossing his arms over his chest.

DG looked at him helplessly. "Not a clue. But he thinks I'll have to kill people to make this work out. Or hurt them. Or something."

Cain folded her up into his arms. "You know I'm not a fan of this magic stuff," he said after a moment. "Just when you think you understand it, something else comes along that's bigger and more powerful and even stranger than the last bit of it."

She laughed and looked up at him. "You're still stuck with me, Wyatt."

"Of course I am. Your parents are even going to make an official announcement in the morning," he told her wryly. She only laughed at the news, not believing it was necessary. "Now we're really stuck with each other."

"Assuming this war doesn't happen here," DG murmured. "Everyone thinks it will."

"We'll be here. And we'll settle things in the Mirror Zone and Ozma will be safe."

DG smiled up at Cain and let him lead her back to bed. "You're always so sensible."

"One of us has to be, and it's not you." He smiled to lessen the sting of his words and pushed the robe off of her shoulders. "Now, where were we?"

"You were naked," DG replied with a bright grin. "And I believe I was in the process of getting equally naked."

They fell onto the bed, the last vestiges of their clothing tossed aside. Cain rolled on top of her, and she laughed as she looped her arms around his shoulders. DG lay with her legs splayed beneath him, the scent of her rising. He braced himself with one arm as he leaned down to kiss her. DG opened her mouth beneath his, her tongue sliding out to touch his. He found her thighs with his other hand, then traced his way to the juncture of her thighs. His fingers sought the center of her, then slipped inside. She gasped as she kissed him, hot and open, then threw her head back when his thumb brushed over her clit. "Wyatt," she murmured as his mouth crashed back over hers. Her hips tilted to give him better access, to let him move his fingers deeper inside of her, and she clawed at his back as the pleasure mounted.

DG made a strangled cry as she came, nails digging into his shoulders. Cain broke the kiss and pulled back slightly. "DG..."

"Did I hurt you?" she gasped, making an effort to let go of his shoulders.

He looked vaguely insulted. "Of course not."

"Good." She grasped his back and did her best to roll over on top of him. It didn't quite work out that way, but he did roll to the side. She clambered up on top of him and straddled his waist. "I'm feeling impatient tonight."

"I noticed," Cain said, reaching up to grasp her nipples between his fingers. She arched into his touch as she sank down on top of him. DG made an inarticulate noise of pleasure, then began to ride him hard. She had her hands at his hips, as if trying to pull him up deeper, and he tilted into her downward strokes. She let out startled groans as each stroke slid deeply home, and he grunted when she began to tighten around him. He thought perhaps he should warn her that he was close, but she sped up, head thrown back as she gasped for breath. He pinched her nipples as he came inside her, and DG made a soft keening noise. Another few strokes and then she tightened even more around him as she shuddered with her orgasm. She bent over at the waist and tucked her face against his neck. Cain traced the curve of her spine and felt the aftershocks ripple through her and flutter around his cock.

DG made a happy little noise as she pressed her lips against his pulse, still leaping wildly at the side of his neck. "You always feel so good, you know that?" she asked, voice soft and almost sleepy sounding.

Cain had to laugh at that. "You do mention it sometimes." He threaded his hands through her hair and held her close as his heartbeat slowed. "I still like hearing it."

"This never gets old," she murmured, smiling against his neck. "I still should shock you with something."

That she was quite a bit younger than him and still loved him was shocking enough. That he would be married to her, that he had a place in her life and that he could contemplate a future at all was shocking still. "I'd like to see you try," he said instead. He rather enjoyed her attempts to shock him, and he liked the way her eyes sparkled when she grinned at him while thinking naughty thoughts.

DG laughed, the old challenge between them still in place. "One day I will, just watch me."

Cain kissed her temple and didn't reply. He didn't need to.

***  
***


	6. Making Decisions

Ine'che wasn't sure what possessed her to do such a thing, but she brought the ebony and emerald walking stick up to Azkadellia's suite. She didn't know this princess, didn't know if she would accept it with good grace or not. But the stick was deceptively fragile looking and had emblems of protection carved into the ebony wood, and it was topped with a small but powerful emerald that could be keyed to any Practitioner's magical signature. It could become a powerful weapon in Azkadellia's hands if she so chose, if she could look beyond the probable insult that she was incapable of walking on her own again.

Her ghostly tin man opened the door to the suite, and ushered her in quickly. Ine'che was hardly noticed by the castle staff any longer; she was not interesting for gossip and no one knew her purpose. Castle staff also no longer visited the part of the castle where Azkadellia's suite was located, so the attention to security was akin to paranoia. Still, she could appreciate the thought. The less temptation to be the fodder for gossip, the better. The castle help were wary and suspicious, not overly fond of anyone but the Queen and DG.

And if war was imminent, Ine'che was sure that even they would not be liked.

She stopped on the threshold of the sitting room in Azkadellia's suite. She was standing, the walking sticks nowhere to be seen, and she had her arms stretched out toward a creature that Ine'che was certain had not been a mobat for very long.

Even worse, she could _hear_ them, and that was rather rude of her.

They stopped and turned toward her almost as one. Azkadellia was smiling softly, the wistful smile of remembering happy but painful things, and looked over at Ine'che with clear, friendly eyes. "Princess Ine'che," she said formally, giving her a shallow curtsy. That was excessive; they were equals, and Ine'che never needed such things. "So lovely you could visit."

"This is from the weapons room," Ine'che said, holding out the walking stick. "I thought perhaps you might have use of it."

Azkadellia strode forward easily and took the stick in her hands. She traced the glyphs with a fingertip almost reverently and looked up with a smile. "Thank you, Ine'che. It's very thoughtful. I can't be too careful around here these days."

"You appear well again," the wyvern said, looking at her with a critical eye. The two tin men had left them alone without having been asked, and Ine'che supposed it was just as well. They weren't magical beings, and she had a feeling there was going to be a Conversation.

Humans always seemed to make things more complicated.

"Ataio helped me," Azkadellia said, looking toward the mobat behind her. "We were talking about magic."

"This is something that might benefit your sister as well," Ine'che pointed out.

She flushed slightly, but shook her head. "It's a theory discussion. Deeg doesn't like that very much. She'd rather I teach her more practical applications than just theory."

"Theory is always important," Ine'che insisted. "How else is she to increase her repertoire of spell applications?"

_She is impatient. I fear I have absorbed this trait by being in close proximity,_ Ataio said ruefully. _I used to be so very patient._

Ine'che had thought that the name was familiar, but the voice definitely was. She immediately knelt and bowed her head low. _All Father._

The mobat laughed in the face of Azkadellia's confusion. _Child, I am no such thing. No formalities here, please. You are not one of the shadow creatures that are my dominion. Not _all_ shifting creatures belong to me._

Ine'che rose and contemplated the mobat in front of her. "I suppose you're the reason that DG and Midnight are happily chattering away at each other now?" she asked aloud. The mobat nodded, pleased with himself. "She was talking of another court, but didn't go into detail. I thought I'd ask this evening, when she and the shadow discuss what they observed to the east."

"The Unseelie Court," Azkadellia said, bringing her hands together in front of her, the ebony staff clasped between them. "She's awakened servants of the Unseelie Court with all of her plans to invade the Mirror Zone."

Nonplused, Ine'che made a thoughtful noise. "She does seem to collect people, doesn't she?" she asked finally.

_She's delightfully amusing that way,_ Ataio remarked, settling down on top of the emerald part of the walking stick. _I very much would like to see how this all plays out._

"You could always return to the Mirror Zone. The lands keep shifting about there."

_No,_ Ataio replied coldly. _I will not see the revenant walking about. I will not observe what my grandniece has done to her._

Knowing she was missing something vitally important, Ine'che held her tongue. Her Elders had always said it was a poor choice to offend Shifters, especially those who were undefinably old and powerful. They tended to have esoteric magics that were difficult to counteract, and quite a few young wyverns had been fatally punished for brazen behavior. Ine'che didn't intend to be one of them after surviving so long.

But Azkadellia stroked Ataio's back almost lovingly and transferred his perch to her shoulder. "DG will take care of it, not to worry," she murmured gently. "You don't have to see it at all."

Ine'che had remembered DG saying that Azkadellia had mobats before. She supposed the princess had missed having them around. "I will see you both at the meeting tonight?"

"Oh, yes," Azkadellia said, smiling gratefully at Ine'che. "Thank you for the staff. It will be very useful, I'm sure."

_The Shadow Brigade comes tonight. Nati will speak for them,_ Ataio said, leveling a gaze at Ine'che. _The others won't understand the import of it, the mortals with no skills in the art. But you will, and you will help your young Princess. There is much she has to learn regarding the Unseelie Court she has awakened._

Ine'che nodded deeply out of respect to Ataio's skill. _Of course. We will all assist her._

_I suppose she has collected you as well,_ Ataio remarked with a smile.

_She has quite a few with the Old Speech,_ Ine'che replied tartly. _And you are the third Shifter in her ranks._

Ataio stilled for a moment, then smiled. _I suppose I am. Odd sensation, to be part of a collection, isn't it?_

Ine'che shrugged and made her way out of the suite. He spoke like the Elders had, and it had always annoyed her growing up. She had followed DG because she had been alone otherwise, and because DG had spirit enough to actually find the Dawn Sanctuary at the heart of the Mirror Zone. And perhaps, if she thought about it, on some level Ine'che felt a kinship to the girl. She was clearly out of her element but was struggling so hard to achieve her goals. Ine'che couldn't help but admire her for that.

Ine'che noticed both of the tin men lounging about playing cards near the doorway. "You'll be there at the meeting, then?" she asked for lack of anything else to say.

The dark one nodded. "More eyes and ears that way. And maybe for strategy as well."

Ine'che thought that perhaps DG was worrying too much about preparation and strategy than was strictly necessary, but kept it to herself. She nodded at the two tin men. "I will see you at tonight's meeting."

Only, that very afternoon an explosion rocked through downtown Central City, destroying quite a bit of the commercial section. The men setting the bombs were quickly gathered up by the Central City tin men, and each proudly declared their allegiance to the Viscount Siba and hailed him as the next true ruler of the OZ.

Apparently, civil war had already begun. DG was out of time to plan.

***

The little ghost fairy that DG had collected and Midnight had named Shadow returned after the afternoon explosions and before the evening meetings. Midnight had arrived first, chattering away happily now that DG could speak in the Old Speech. The ghost had been away following a hunch that she had, one that Midnight hadn't seen fit to follow along with.

Upon her return, she was pleased to note that DG was capable of fully speaking in the Old Speech. She had little enough finesse as it was trying to make herself heard by all, but could speak well enough to a Practitioner with Old Speech. Not well enough all of the time, she corrected, thinking of the Belen Tasilth that had been near the palace when she left. But well enough to speak with some kind of authority on what she had seen during her travels. She slid through the cracks in the balcony to DG's suite. It was much easier now that she was half of her former self, and she was used to her current form. It had been several months, closer to a year, since the day DG had resurrected her from her spell threads. The majority of her soul had been consumed by Queen Lurlaine, and the memories between casting the spells on Cain and being consumed were lost. The little ghost knew she hadn't lost much, at least.

_my lady,_ she began formally, sliding up and around DG's arm before nestling into the curve of her neck. _i bring much news._

_Tell me,_ DG replied with a wan smile. _Hopefully there's good news in there somewhere._

_unfortunately, no. lord siba has many things he plans, though there is no coherence in what he plans. i had a theory, and let Midnight go on ahead while i looked into it._

DG slid her hand along the ghost's form, and she shivered in response to the approval in the touch. DG was a creature that thrived on touch and sights and sounds, all things that Practitioners usually did not. Practitioners usually liked theory and abstraction, dealt in magics and otherworldly things. Few Practitioners were physical in the way that DG was. The ghost was still trying to get used to it.

_there are many battle plans. central city is prime among them, many plans for central city. some in Gravespire for the morale..._

_I can almost hear the difference in some names for you,_ DG interrupted with a smile. _Some names are more important than others._

_of course,_ the ghost replied. She would have rolled her eyes if she had more substance. _Practitioners and the Creatures of the Zones deserve more respect. there isn't much respect for those without magic or what they build without magic._

_Is that just Lurlaine's court?_ DG asked, sure that it had to be just the court. She had met plenty of people along the way that seemed to respect her, and she hadn't truly been a Practitioner then.

_all over. but perhaps because of Queen Lurlaine's influence, perhaps,_ the ghost acknowledged. _whatever she wishes to exist will do so._

_Siba started moving against Central City,_ DG said, almost abruptly. She pulled her hands away from the ghost and leaned against the table in her sitting room. She looked over the map of the Mirror Zone and the map of the OZ that Cain had brought her. Here she was, about to wage war over two different Zones, and she wasn't even a military tactician. She had Advisors for that, but her decision was the final one. _I don't want to do this,_ she admitted to the ghost, her fear evident in her voice.

_then they all win,_ the ghost replied, sliding from DG's shoulder. _darkness always wins if the light just stands aside. it always seeks to fill the empty spaces that the light leaves behind._

DG looked up with hollow eyes. "Everyone talks about death so casually," DG whispered, her voice breaking. "I don't think I can do it."

_there are worse things than death, dear Princess. ask any of the shadows._

DG stared after the ghost as she slid past the doorway and into the hall. When back in the palace, her duties were to follow the Queen and to be sure that she was safe. It hadn't changed after the Breakers ceased to exist, and now it was no doubt doubly important. The ghost fairy hadn't listed all of Siba's targets, but it was hardly necessary at this point.

Another explosion rocked Central City's business district.

***

"Tell me the bad news," the Queen murmured in her council session. It had superseded DG's planned meeting for that night, and all of her friends gathered in the Queen's council room. Even Azkadellia was there, though she carried the ebony staff and was dressed in a black hooded cloak that covered her face in shadows. Everyone knew Callan and Della was protecting Azkadellia's comatose body, so they attended the meeting in glamours as the cloaked figure's honor guard. Though the Queen was visibly disconcerted by their appearance in her council session, DG had blithely introduced her as Lady Delia of the Silver Enclave. While DG had just made it up on the fly, it carried a ring of recognition somewhere in her childhood memories. She had heard that name before, something about magic and the Ancients. The Queen's council members kept their eyes averted from Azkadellia and her two honor guards at all times. The old superstitions about ancient magic persisted, and they feared their souls would be sucked out through their eyes if they stared too long at the cloaked figure.

The Head Chamberlain stood at attention. "There have been two sets of explosions within Central City and three riots following the announcement of the Crown Princess Dorothy Gale's betrothal," he began in an apologetic voice. "However, there are widespread uprisings all over the OZ. The majority of them lie close to Green Harbor, where Lord Siba and known associates live. It's possibly safe to say that the entire western part of the OZ is likely partial to Lord Siba, especially after the Sorceress' focused attacks on the Northern Guilds in that region. They haven't yet started to riot, but most of the larger cities in the different counties have started to choose sides and make alliances."

"It's worse than I feared," the Queen murmured, looking up from the map of the OZ in dismay.

"The majority of the riots are in Green Harbor, Ruby Gulch, Caronet, Hilly Valley and Juniper Lake," DG said, standing up and cutting off one of the Queen's Advisors. She pointed at each county on the map. Green Harbor was the westernmost ones, with Ruby Gulch and Caronet as the next two counties between Green Harbor and Central City. She vaguely remembered that they had once been a desert, but magic had restored the areas enough so that people could live there without being turned to dust. Next were the lands of the Northern Guild and the robots of Milltown, as well as the Fields of the Papay. No one in Siba's group wanted those lands, so they hadn't bothered to recruit allies. "This means we have to cut off their route to Central City. We have to make the stand as far away from the city as possible."

"Princess, with all due respect, those lands will not be hospitable for our troops," one of the Queen's Advisors said, giving her a wan smile. "Perhaps you are not familiar..."

"I was a prisoner of the Northern Guild when I first arrived here," DG responded tightly. "I traveled to Milltown and through the Fields of the Papay. I'm probably more aware of what they're like than you are," she said, staring down the Advisor.

"Deeg," Cain murmured, hand on her elbow.

She nodded at him and turned back to the map. Hilly Valley and Juniper Lake were to the southwest of Central City, south of the Fields of the Papay. There were a lot of Viewers in the area, especially in Juniper Lake. The majority of the populace had been devastated during the Sorceress' reign, and had no interest in assisting a Queen that wanted to keep Azkadellia alive, even if she was no longer the Sorceress. "We're not going to win the south. Viewers would be our allies, but there aren't enough of them left there to make a difference in turning the opinion of the barons in those counties."

"Most of the leadership in those counties were executed," an Advisor said. "There are no tin men there, no armies in the south. They would be easy wins."

"We would never be able to keep those counties," DG replied, frowning.

"We can't rely on tin men from Central City to keep peace outside the city. It's hard enough when riots are starting to break out here. The ranks are thin enough as they are, and will have even more trouble keeping the city safe," Cain told the council. They knew he spoke from experience; just months before he was working in Central City among the rank and file. Because of his current status, he couldn't rejoin the efforts.

"We haven't an army large enough," an Advisor said, and the Queen covered her face in her hands. "My Queen, Princess, I don't believe we can cover the entire south and western regions of the OZ if they decide to attack."

DG turned to the Queen. "Mother, I have resources you don't," she said flatly. "I hadn't gotten around to discussing it with you because we didn't exactly finish our defensive plans yet. But we don't exactly have time to do that now."

Ine'che wanted to applaud. This was how it should have been done three days ago.

The Queen looked at her daughter, startled and frightened at once. "What are you talking about?"

"You've heard of the Unseelie Court?" DG asked instead.

All of the Advisors took in the hooded figure in the room and visibly shuddered.

"Not her," DG snapped. "She's my friend and you will show respect." She looked up and around the room, and the shadows seemed to shiver. "Most of the Advisors in this room weren't exactly aware of the circumstances the OZ was in several months ago, soon after the coronation ball. We were in danger of having this entire Zone destroyed by the Breakers. They were servants of the Ice Witch, who had been imprisoned in the Northern Ice Floe. That's where Azkadellia gave her life to protect me and save the OZ."

"Is she dead, then?" one of the Advisors asked, stunned.

DG pressed her lips flat together in an unhappy expression. "She's the same as when I saw her last," she replied, aware she was being evasive. "You all just give her shit for what happened, but it wasn't her fault. It was _mine._ And I've tried to fix that mistake. The Sorceress was the Water Witch, and she was destroyed on the night of the eclipse. Azkadellia destroyed the Ice Witch in the Northern Ice Floe."

"I don't understand what this has to do with the Unseelie Court," an Advisor ventured when DG fell silent. Another tried to shush him, but he kept his gaze on DG.

She couldn't remember his name. Most of their names she couldn't remember. They weren't her Advisors, weren't part of her group. "Those witches were actually imprisoned here by Queen Lurlaine of the Dawn Sanctuary in the Mirror Zone," DG said after a moment. She knew there was no use in telling anyone she had tried to run away from her responsibilities for a bit. It would only undermine her position with them. "I've traveled there, and Queen Lurlaine does exist. She is to the Mirror Zone what the Sorceress was to us. She keeps the Sanctuary to do what she wants, no matter who she hurts, who she kills." DG looked at each stunned Advisor in turn, her hands clenched into fists at her sides. "Ozma, the one that gifted the original Dorothy Gale with her magic, is still there and still being abused by Lurlaine. The ones that tried to save her, to oppose Lurlaine, formed the Unseelie Court. They lost. They were imprisoned here, the Water Witch and the Ice Witch, because Lurlaine could do whatever the hell she wanted to do and there was no one here to stop her. They might be gone now, but Lurlaine still needs to be stopped. I promised I would, so that means the Unseelie Court is reborn."

The Advisors all turned to the Queen and began asking questions, their voices rising in a cacophony of sound. DG turned to her mother with an apologetic face. _I'm sorry,_ she wanted to say. _I'm sorry I had to say this much, I'm sorry you had to find out this way, I'm sorry all this is my fault. But I'll _fix_ it somehow. I promise you._

Whether the Queen understood her intentions or not, she raised her hands and the Advisors all fell silent. "DG has seen these places, and she knows what she's talking about." The Queen turned her lavender eyes to DG, a serene expression on her face. "I trust her judgment in this implicitly, as well as in quelling the uprising here in the OZ."

Ine'che wanted to cover her face in her hands. Or leave the room. Or both. The stunned silence was almost too much to bear, and the Queen's petty Advisors were surely about to curry favor with DG. The Queen had all but abdicated the throne in that statement.

Glitch smiled at the Queen and then DG. "Well, then. We have both wars to plan for. I for one want to hear what the Unseelie Court generals have to say."

Ine'che reached out and touched Glitch's hand in approval. That was a neat way to sidestep the feeling of impending doom that had come over most of the other humans. He nodded at her, an absent smile on his face, and looked over at DG expectantly.

One of the shadows in the room shifted and seemed almost vaguely human in shape. He bowed deeply before the assemblage and attempted to clear his throat. It sounded like the rustling of dry leaves, and the room fell silent to listen.

"I am Nati of the Shadow Brigade. We pledged our allegiance to the Unseelie Court, to the overthrow of Queen Lurlaine of the Dawn Sanctuary. When the sisters were taken and the Court dissolved, we fled to the Shadowlands between Zones or to the shadows in this Zone. We waited for a new leader to rise, for another attempt to dislodge Lurlaine from that place. Dorothy Gale, you have pledged yourself to the overthrow of Queen Lurlaine."

This last seemed like a question, and DG nodded solemnly. "I have."

"You are recognized by the Shadow Brigade as Queen of the Unseelie Court. Our forces are at your disposal to use as you require."

The voice, a quiet whisper of wind, was still inherently powerful. The entire room was silent, waiting for DG's response.

"I acknowledge the Shadow Brigade as defenders of the court," DG replied, voice sure even as she was making up the words. Azkadellia had assured her earlier that it wasn't the words so much as the intent that mattered in the Unseelie Court. The Seelie Court had been concerned with the words and ritual, not the theory or intent behind the magic. They were hoping it would be their downfall.

DG remembered that Aliana and Cliara had been kept in prisons designed of their elements for thousands of annuals, driven insane and unable to contemplate anything but magic for their escape into the Outer Zone.

She wasn't about to make the same mistake.

DG looked to Cain, who handed her a roll of parchment. She unfurled a map of the Mirror Zone and placed it next to the map of the Outer Zone. The Mirror Zone had some areas that were similar to the lands her ancestor had traveled through during her time in Oz, but too much had happened since then. Nothing was exactly the same, though some things never changed. She looked up at Nati. "How many do you have to devote to this war?"

"We number in the thousands, if you but call us."

"I'm calling you," DG replied, ignoring the strangled gasps of the Advisors and the shock of the Queen. This wasn't their war anymore, it was hers. If they were going to sit around and yammer on about nonsense, the OZ was definitely going to fall.

The shadows seemed to grow thicker around the room, and DG allowed herself a smile. "You don't waste any time, do you?"

Nati seemed to answer her smile. "We have waited for untold annuals for this moment, my Queen. We await your orders."

"I need a force patrolling Central City at all times," DG said, pointing to the city on the OZ map. "We have tin men and a handful of palace guards, but it's not enough to keep the city safe. This is one major priority. I don't want any of the opposition to murder my people in the city."

Nati gestured to his right and a shadow coalesced into a winged shape. "Tasi will handle this, and her battalion shall speak with your city's protectors."

"Maybe they can use Baron Cain as a go-between for now," DG said, shooting Cain a wry look. He glared at her and crossed his arms over his chest, but didn't say anything to contradict her in front of everyone else. "General Cain?" she asked, eyebrow raised.

"Ostentatious, but it'll do," Cain replied, giving her a slight smile. He didn't like her surprises; whenever she improvised, something invariably went wrong.

The Advisors were shocked or sputtering, but the Queen silenced them and DG simply ignored them. "The other major area of attack is going to be the west and southwest," she went on. Nati looked at the map, browlike features on his face furrowing in concentration. "We're going to have to lay siege to Green Harbor."

The Queen visibly blew out a breath in surprise. "DG..."

"This can't go unpunished." She looked up, knowing that Azkadellia was staring at her back and giving whatever support she could while keeping silent. "Lord Siba will be caught, and he will stand trial for treason against the House of Gale. His titles and lands will be stripped from him and his family." She had the table's edge in a white knuckled grip, not wanting to state what the obvious punishment for treason was in the OZ. "The same goes for the barons helping him. We cannot let any of them or their supporters believe they can undermine the House of Gale and get away with it."

The Queen was pale and couldn't meet her daughter's eyes. The Advisors were all shocked by the quiet statements, but couldn't find fault with the logic.

Nati merely nodded, not surprised at all. "The slave shadow you had employed to spy on those lands met with us after speaking with you."

Slave shadow? DG hadn't thought of her little ghost fairy as a slave, especially as Ine'che had implied that Lurlaine's staff were called servants. None of the Gale palace servants were slaves, and it hadn't occurred to her that Lurlaine's would be any different.

"Your thoughts?" DG asked once she found her voice.

"This Lord Siba spreads his thoughts like poison among your people. Those lands you discussed are merely the ones that have begun to be vocal, the ones that have started to display the unrest this Lord Siba has caused. Your southern lands, especially those that produce the most foodstuffs for your people, are at risk of falling prey to his poisonous words next. The northern lands are too cold and insignificant to his liking, but are where many of us had hidden. The northern lands are safe and full of allies."

DG nodded, taking it all in. "We'll need to discuss the specifics of how to isolate Siba and his cronies and keep the south safe." She turned around and looked at Azkadellia with a pleading expression on her face. "I didn't ask earlier, but I'm asking now. Could you cross over to the Mirror Zone and direct things there for me? I can't leave the OZ now."

Azkadellia looked at her sister, her throat closed tight. Her thumb traced a protective rune on the ebony staff as she nodded. _I'll do anything you ask, you know that,_ she said in the Old Speech. _I'll help you however I can._

"Then it's settled," DG announced as she turned back to the group at the table. "I'm going to attack both Zones at once. They won't know what hit them."

***  
***


	7. The Other Side of the Mirror

"We're coming with you, of course," Callan told Azkadellia. "You're not going anywhere by yourself, especially not someplace we know nothing about."

Azkadellia pushed the hood from her head and tried not to shiver under his intense gaze. Della wasn't any better, but he merely voiced his opinion with a grim expression. "I wouldn't assume anything different," she told him soothingly. "But I did promise to help Deeg however I could, and this is one thing she really wants."

"By going to a different Zone to fight the bitch that made those two witches insane? By leading an army made of up of shadows?"

"If that's how it has to be," Azkadellia began slowly.

"Delia, what do you know about this Court? Other than what that shifter told you?" Della asked, cutting off Callan's reply.

"They were created to overthrow Queen Lurlaine. The idea was to put Ozma on the throne of the Dawn Sanctuary," Azkadellia replied, looking at him. "What is it?"

"All those stories that your sister told, and not one of them made it sound like Ozma could rule over a country. I'm wondering if they're planning on putting your sister on the throne there, and expect her to rule over two Zones."

Azkadellia froze in place. "Even Deeg can't be in two places at once."

"Right. Which would leave the OZ without a ruler. She'd be stuck there, because she doesn't know how to make a storm to get herself back, and she'd be in a place full of magic that could trap her there."

"She said she could probably figure out a way to make those portals Lurlaine was using, instead of having to rely on travel storms like I do."

"I don't like it," Callan replied, crossing his arms over his chest. "We're headed somewhere we don't know to fight a war that probably isn't going to be anything like we know."

Azkadellia pushed the cloak off of her shoulders and wrapped an arm around Callan. She beckoned Della over with her other arm, and he stepped forward enough so that she could wrap it around him. "I don't know how things are going to be. You know as much as I do about that place from what Deeg said. But we'll be together for all of it, I promise."

Della placed a kiss along the curve of Azkadellia's neck. "That's the only part I didn't doubt."

Azkadellia sat in her suite later that night. Callan was sleeping and Della was leaving her to her thoughts for the moment. Their belongings were all packed, and they were planning to arrive in the Mirror Zone by travel storm early in the morning. Ataio had refused to go along, of course, and Azkadellia was sure that she would miss their conversations. She had always loved learning about magic and theory as a child, and had exhausted Tutor's knowledge long before she was ready to stop. Maybe that was why she let herself fall under the Sorceress' spell at first. She hadn't started being mean right away. She hadn't seemed all that bad at first.

_You worry too much for this task,_ Ataio commented, flying in through her open window.

Azkadellia smiled at him softly. _I've been second guessing myself for a long time. It's a hard habit to break._

He laid a hand on her shoulder and gave it a squeeze. _We all find our way eventually._

Azkadellia didn't say anything as he flew out of her window. She went to sit beside Della in her sitting room, their belongings packed and ready for travel. It wasn't much more than the travel preparations she had made months ago, when she had decided to find the Breakers. Still, it seemed different and more nerve wracking for her this time around. The last time, she hadn't known what she was getting herself into. This time, she knew.

"I couldn't be of any use here," she murmured, dropping her head onto his shoulder. He was sitting in front of the fireplace, staring at the flickering flames. He nodded wordlessly. "It might be interesting, exploring new places."

Della turned to look at her, and shifted so that his arm was around her. "Maybe Callan and I won't be so useless there. That's the thing we worry about. All that magic over there, all that new stuff... Would you even need us there?"

Azkadellia pulled back to look him in the eye. "Of course I would! How could you even think that? I need you both."

"Here, it's a war with swords and cannons and things that's only augmented with magic. There, it's the other way around. And we have no idea if the magic there is going to make it impossible to do anything physical." Della slid his hand up to cup her face. "We don't doubt you love us, that you'd need us for that alone. We just doubt being useful in any other way."

"They still have physical forms. They can be hurt. That's what you told me about the Ice Witch."

Della smiled. "Yeah. That didn't exactly end well, if you recall."

"We're still together," Azkadellia said fiercely. She leaned forward and kissed Della, trying to pour as much of herself into the kiss. "I'm going to do whatever I can to keep it that way."

He held her tightly. "Of course you are, Delia. Of that we had no doubt at all."

Neither mentioned that they were going to wage war against someone who had condemned her own family to a fate they considered worse than death.

***

As soon as it was confirmed that the communication and linking spells had set on the mirrors, DG looked up at Azkadellia. "You'll be okay. You know that, right?" she asked.

Azkadellia's lips twitched. "Isn't it my job to tell you that you'll be all right?"

She grinned at her sister. "I never did do things the right way, did I?"

Azkadellia couldn't help but laugh. "Somehow it seems to work out for you, though."

DG grasped Azkadellia's hand tightly. "Whatever I did, or didn't do, I want you to know that I still love you. And I'm sorry for everything that's my fault."

She couldn't deal with this right now. She hadn't wanted to think about her possession, the quiet months afterward as she hid in the shadows of her sister's rising reputation. She hadn't wanted to think of how desperate she had been to get _out,_ that she had bent over and tied herself into knots because there was a fine line between what she could and couldn't help doing while she was possessed. Saving the OZ the last time had been her penance, and even that she couldn't do right, could she?

Azkadellia pasted a smile on her face. "Of course, Deeg. You're my sister. I know you didn't mean it. You couldn't."

It would likely always sit between them, this awkwardness. Each sister blamed herself for what had happened, and neither could convince the other of their point of view.

Because the Breakers no longer existed, the sisters were going to communicate between the Zones via enchanted mirrors. Azkadellia had laid the groundwork on the spells, and DG had added her own flair to it. It had taken a day for the spells to sink into the mirrors, little ones easily hidden on their person. The size was "like a compact," though Azkadellia hadn't known what that meant. She could still advise DG about the situation with the nobles, and DG could advise her about the Mirror Zone if needed.

"You'll take care of yourself," DG insisted, looking at her with an intent look. "And your guys will, too. But still... I should be there. That's my war. I started it. That should be me going there and doing that."

"This is your war here, too," Azkadellia reminded her. "And they need to see you here, that your intentions are to protect the people. The OZ needs you." It went unsaid that they didn't need Azkadellia, that she was superfluous and unwanted. She was the broken sister, the corrupted sister. She was the reason things went wrong in the first place.

"I will come help you as soon as I can, okay?" DG insisted. She took a locket from around her neck and placed it around Azkadellia's. "Here. It's my promise. Once Siba's taken care of, I'll come to help finish things."

"If I haven't taken care of it by then," Azkadellia assured her. She smiled and looked over to where Callan and Della were waiting. They were encased in shadows, the members of the Shadow Brigade that had volunteered to return to the Mirror Zone and help rally an army for the Unseelie Court. "We'll be fine."

The travel storm deposited them in Ceftin Fields, not far from the Lunchpail Grove and the Berrywine Farm. DG had said that the farm's owner was Melinda Berrywine, who had three young children and had been all too happy to discuss the Mirror Zone's history. The Shadow Brigade members departed to test the current climate within the Zone and see how Lurlaine's servants might respond to the call to arms.

After a quick consultation of the map, they headed for the Berrywine farm. It was a fairly short walk, and the weather in that particular section of the Mirror Zone was cool and clear. It was a good harvest day, and plenty of field hands dotted the farm. They headed straight for the farmhouse, which looked exactly the way DG had described it. Della knocked on the door, and Callan took up position beside Azkadellia.

The woman that opened the door was not the petite redheaded woman that DG had described, however. "Could we speak with Melinda Berrywine?" Azkadellia asked the confused young woman at the door. She had dark hair tied messily into a bun at the top of her head, and her apron was dusted with flour. She had likely been in the kitchen getting ready to make lunch for the assembled field hands.

The woman looked even more confused. "But there ain't been no Melinda Berrywine in years now," she said, looking at them.

"Red hair, petite, six children?" Della asked, remembering the description DG had given them.

"That sounds like Melinda, right," the young woman said with a nod, "but see here, she's dead." She looked at the three stunned faces in front of her. "Sorry."

"Harold Junior, then?" Callan asked.

"Well, Granddad's dead, too," the young woman replied with a frown. She looked from them to the open road behind them in concern. "Mebbe you best come in."

They filed into the kitchen. Lynn Berrywine was Melinda's great-granddaughter and current head of the household. Her brother Desmond had been killed in a raid the year before along with their parents, so it fell to her to care for everything and still get the younger children settled.

"I don't understand," Azkadellia murmured, shaking her head. "My sister was here not that long ago. She was traveling with Cain and the Princess Ozma. She told me this."

"The Outsiders," Lynn said with a nod. "Graddad used to tell stories about that, when we had real live princesses in our very house. Very proud, he was. Said they were really pretty and nice to us, and went on their way traveling so that Princess Ozma could get back home safely. She goes out and about every few generations, and it was time for her to go home."

"Every few generations?" Callan asked, eyebrows rising.

"Well, yes. She and the Queen are eternal. That's the way of it in the Sanctuary," Lynn replied primly, rolling out the dough that she would eventually cut into biscuits. "The rest of us just muddle on by the best we can."

"And those raids...?" Della began, frowning at the girl.

Lynn shrugged. "Started about my parents' time, I suppose. They've always been around. You just keep out of the way when they come, and that's how it goes."

"Who are they?" Azkadellia said, hoping to catch Lynn's eye.

But the girl wouldn't look up. "Sisters of princesses are still princesses, yeah? And they don't ever travel alone. My Granddad always said to be good to princesses. Good things happen to families that do that, and we had good crops until the raids started." She flattened the dough, lips pressed tight. "We thought they'd stopped, but they came back last year. And everything's gone different. Everything always goes different."

Azkadellia scuttled forward after removing her cloak and putting aside the ebony walking stick. "Lynn? Who are the ones raiding the farm?"

Lynn put the rolling pin down. "Some folk call 'em Wheelers. There used to be Wheelers, long time ago. When we were still part of Oz, before that land fell apart and had to be pieced back together with magic." She looked up at Azkadellia. "They were supposed to be a story, like how Blackrock used to have trees on it and how Homespun Valley used to have farms. Like there used to be an Oz before the Mirror Lands."

"Wheelers?" Della asked. Azkadellia shot him and Callan a look that clearly said she had no idea what the girl was talking about.

"Stories went that they were from Ev, when there was an Oz. They were harmless because they ain't got hands to punch or grab or scratch, ain't no feet to kick with. Stories went that they write warnings in the sand and make people afraid of 'em to protect themselves." Lynn picked up her rolling pin and began to roll the dough again. "Only, these Wheelers ain't harmless. They ain't harmless at all. They can punch and grab and scratch with them wheels. And can kick with them wheels. And they can kill and do worse with them wheels."

Azkadellia pulled Lynn into an embrace, ignoring the flour covering the girl. "What can we do to help?" she asked, voice quiet. She knew the kind of thing that men could do if they were allowed to. She'd heard plenty of reports about her Longcoats, after all.

The _Sorceress'_ Longcoats. Not hers, not really, not the way it was supposed to count.

Lynn shrugged out of the embrace. "We just keep on keeping on, is all. How life is."

"Do they work for the Queen?" Della asked.

"Don't know," Lynn replied, shrugging. "But she sure don't stop 'em and I'm sure she could."

Azkadellia was starting to get a glimmer of an idea. "Where do they live? Where's Ev in the Mirror Zone?"

Lynn looked up sharply. "You can't go there! They'll kill you!"

"I have magic and two knights to protect me," Azkadellia told Lynn with a smile. The two sleeping Practitioners within her were thrumming with power, finally realizing just where they were. _Home,_ they sang out with wide eyes and open arms, we're finally home!

"They're an army all among themselves," Lynn cried, shaking her head. "You can't take 'em on to make them stop. You can't."

"They just need to stop attacking the people," Azkadellia said, her lips curling into a darker shade of her smile. Della and Callan seemed to catch the distinction in her words. Still, Lynn was clearly distressed. "But let's not talk about that now. Why don't we help you get the food ready? And you can tell us about how things have changed since Princesses Dorothy and Ozma were here. How about that?"

Lynn clearly relaxed. "Well, you've got to change and look like us. Ain't no call to get attacks on us if people are wanting to ransom off a Princess and her knights. Lands about these parts aren't safe like they were for the other Princesses."

So Azkadellia's traveling clothes were left with Lynn, who was flustered at the idea of any finery like that being left in the farmhouse. "It's a present to thank you for helping us. You can use it as a wedding dress," Azkadellia offered, which seemed to calm Lynn down. She wore one of Lynn's homespun cotton blouses and dark skirts, woolen tights and kept her own shoes. The rest of their belongings had been kept in her old magic traveling bags, which didn't look so incredibly fine that Lynn feared for their safety on the road. Della and Callan traded their Center City tin man uniforms for Desmond's old clothing, which was still in the attic. Lynn had been saving it for when their youngest brother Ronald was old enough to fit into them, but the two tin men had more need of it. "You need to fit in more," Lynn told them, not quite meeting their eyes. "Can't be too fine about these parts or else."

Or else being the Wheelers, but that had been Azkadellia's intention.

There wasn't much space in the house, but Lynn let the three of them take one of the bedrooms in the back of the house. She thought it went unspoken that Azkadellia should have her own room and her knights to protect her. She didn't think anything of it when the three of them went inside the room to sleep, and went to bed with her younger brothers and sisters.

"So we're going to recruit these Wheelers, aren't we?" Della asked, locking the door behind him.

"That's the plan, at least. If they won't join us, I'll have to do something else about them. I can't... I don't know these people, and they're not even Deeg's friends, but I couldn't let this go on. It's too much like..." _before,_ she almost said, but they understood what she meant.

Callan was nodding as he wrapped his arms around her. "I wouldn't expect you to just ignore them and say it's not your problem."

"You wouldn't?"

"That's not the Delia we know," Della murmured as Callan ended his embrace. "You're not as removed from things as you want people to believe."

Callan unbuttoned Azkadellia's blouse, a grin on his face. "It's a good look for you, Delia."

Because they called her Delia, so did the Berrywine household. Azkadellia thought it was only a matter of time before everyone knew it as her name. She smiled at Callan and started unbuttoning his shirt as well. Della was unlacing her boots, his fingers skimming along her calves. She felt so wickedly exposed; she had always been in heavy dresses and cloaks and corsets as the Sorceress, and even after her possession ended she had worn the same heavy kind of clothing. Her time with Della and Callan had been so very short before she had fallen into her coma, and she had never entertained the thought of dressing like DG had described clothes on the Other Side. She had always been a princess, had always needed to be formal. Going around without a corset since her waking had been the most informal she had ever been.

She liked it. She liked feeling their hands through the material of her dresses, and now having them undress her more easily. She liked having Callan's mouth descend over hers, his hands cupping her breasts with little in the way to stop him. She liked how Della tugged down the skirt and pulled down the tights, pressing his mouth to the juncture of her thighs. They tumbled to the bed, ache thick and heavy between her legs. Della's tongue traced her folds and dipped inside that growing center of need. Callan's tongue was in her mouth and his fingers stroked her nipples until they ached and she was so sensitive she thought she might come from the touch alone.

Azkadellia kept herself as quiet as she could as she came, her cries swallowed by Callan's mouth over hers. She broke the kiss and pulled Callan onto the bed more fully. She pushed Della back enough so that she could turn herself to rest on her hands and knees. Smiling sensuously at them both, she said "Remember, we have to stay quiet. The children are sleeping."

Della managed to silence his groan as he slid inside of her, and Callan had to shove a fist into his mouth to muffle the sound he made when Azkadellia wrapped her lips around his cock. Della held her hips in place, teeth grit to keep from making more than little groans at the feel of her. She had a harder time of it, but her mewling sounds were muffled by the length inside of her mouth. She focused on sliding her tongue along that length, taking him as far back as she could, one hand holding his hip to steady herself as the other propped her up. Callan knelt before her, one hand tangled in her long hair, the other holding the headboard behind him for balance as she sucked him as hard as she could.

Callan came first, biting back a cry as he spilled inside Azkadellia's mouth. She nearly choked, but managed to catch herself in time. Callan curled around her when she fell to her elbows, gasping for breath at the sensation of Della full inside of her and pushing her close to her own release. He whispered into her ear all the deliciously dirty things he wanted to say, a hand threaded through her hair to keep her from turning away. Della came with a groan as Azkadellia tightened around him, close to her own release. He thrust a few more times, until she shook from the force of her orgasm and fell against Callan.

They arranged themselves on the bed as best as they could. They would likely have to wake early in the morning, and hide their activities. Still, Azkadellia had the beginnings of a plan for gathering an army to fight Lurlaine.

If it had indeed been so many years since DG's travels in the Mirror Zone, Lurlaine would never know what hit her.

***  
***


	8. Battle Lines

DG lay awake in bed trying to figure out what to do next. She had an army, but no knowledge to use them properly. She had ghost fairies and Ine'che and Ataio as far as crazy magical creatures went, and Cain and tin men and the royal guard as far as mortals went. She wanted to storm in and sweep all the annoyances off the face of the OZ, but that probably wasn't possible or even recommended. Running in to assassinate Siba wouldn't necessarily solve all of her problems; she'd actually mentioned that possibility to Cain after Azkadellia and her tin men disappeared to the Mirror Zone. She had promptly covered her mouth in horror at even _thinking_ she should order someone's death, though Cain forgave her for it. Never mind that the social and perceptual issues would remain. Never mind that she wouldn't be any better than Lurlaine or the other dark witches she'd fought to save the OZ from.

What was she supposed to _do?_

She dimly heard the sound of wings and sat up. Without waking Cain, she left the bed and followed the sound. Midnight was back early from his nighttime travels, enthusiastic as he always was. He was chattering away about the lovely things the Viewers showed him, the sparkly things in the mines of Ruby Gulch, the people who talked in dark corners in whispers so that others couldn't hear them, the boats of Green Harbor full of sparkling things to give to people with angry faces. DG had already known that the two counties were in cahoots against the crown, so that was nothing new.

_And they plan to find the southern farmlands, and the fields. They're going to leave little boxes for the farmers to find, and they said they would be like pap-pay. What's that?_ Midnight asked, head cocked to the side.

DG scratched the top of Midnight's head absently. "Papay? But the fields of the Papay are more to the north, and they're rebuilding the orchards..."

_There are boxes in the south. Little black boxes with powders inside, and some with liquids, and they plan for screaming and teeth and eating,_ Midnight told her, not sure what he was describing. _The Viewer told me to tell you, and said it was important._

Raw had said that his people didn't trust Siba or his plans, and were going to try to help her however they could. This had to be it. "Describe it to me," DG murmured, looking around her room. "I'll draw it, and you can correct if I'm drawing it wrong."

Slowly the pictures formed. There were nondescript boxes placed beside houses or village centers, anywhere people would likely gather. DG rather thought they might be like bombs, to kill as much as possible, only Midnight insisted on describing what he meant by _screaming and teeth and eating,_ and it seemed as though perhaps these bombs were much more malignant in scope than she first thought.

Siba was planning to create something new and frightening, like the Papay had been, and make sure they were driven north from the farming lands into Central City.

DG didn't doubt that such things were collected from the remnants of the Sorceress' tower. The tower was a fortress, and palace staff hadn't gone through it. Azkadellia hadn't been trusted to do it, and DG had been too busy. Neither the Queen nor Ahamo had wanted to do it, and there was only a token show of security around the tower. They had simply relied on the fact that it had been the Sorceress' tower to keep people away from it.

Big mistake.

_When will this happen?_ DG asked Midnight. He was young, with a poor sense of time, but DG hoped he would have some sense of it. The poor mobat shrugged, however, and wasn't able to even guess. _How can I be sure when it would be, then?_

_Your Viewer friend. He can see things,_ Midnight offered.

DG smiled at Midnight. _You're right,_ she said, leaning forward and giving him a playful pat on the head. "I'm so glad you reminded me."

Raw was able to get the memory the following morning. While he couldn't do any better regarding a time period, he did realize that it was likely going to happen within the next few weeks. The Sorceress' tower had already been broken into, and whatever the devices were had already been stolen. It was the corruption of the farmers that hadn't happened yet, and DG was hoping to prevent it from ever happening. What was the use of having a Viewer help if there was no way to avoid the bad things?

"I know we said we don't have enough of an army to cover both the south and west, but we're going to have to." DG looked at Raw and Glitch almost apologetically. Things kept shifting about as new information was culled from the Unseelie Court's efforts.

"They're not a threat," Glitch replied, head cocked to the side. "Are we attacking them?"

"I know we said that the south were not a threat to us," DG told Raw and Glitch. "But right now, they're really important as allies. I need the both of you to go south with some of the palace guard and a complement of the Shadow Brigade. Siba's got a plan to change the farmers somehow, to change them and to make them like the Papay."

Raw couldn't help but shudder and look away slightly at the reminder. "The Papay are not good creatures to become. They are full of pain and hunger. They rage, DG," he said, turning back to her. "Those people should not become like the Papay."

"Exactly," DG said, nodding. "We need to protect them. Not just because they're the farmers we need for food, but because we can't let anyone suffer like that again."

"Oh, yes," Glitch agreed, nodding. "Well, now, I think it was Ronsard that was supposed to work with us? Tall like a tree and twice as wide when solid?"

Raw nodded. "He is a troll," he added helpfully.

Glitch smiled. "Troll. Yes. We don't have those in the OZ. He is utterly fascinating. Just like all of the other creatures that came with him. I have to categorize them and write up some kind of description. Everyone else needs to know more about these fascinating creatures."

DG couldn't help but grin at his enthusiasm. "You go do that, then. Maybe Ronsard will have more to say if he knew you were going to write a book."

"A book! Yes. And you'll have to do the illustrations. You draw so well. And Raw, too. Both artists, and a book like this would definitely need illustrations."

DG had to laugh as they left, Glitch talking about the book he now wanted to write. Her smile faltered slightly as she took in the map of the OZ pinned to the wall of her sitting room. She had black pins in it where the attacks and riots had been, red pins where there were enemy camps, green pins where her soldiers were and blue pins where her Shadow Brigade teams were. She added a green and blue pin to the southern farmlands where she was sending Glitch and Raw. The south still looked woefully empty of pins.

"Too many black pins," she murmured, touching the ones stuck into Central City.

_My Queen,_ Nati said behind her. DG turned around and he bowed deeply before her. _I have not heard news across the Zones yet, but it appears that Siba is shifting troops. I don't know where just yet, but he is on the move by sea as well as by land._

_We need to destroy his navy,_ DG said, jaw tightening. His ships could go along the northern coast, bypassing the Northern Guild and the rebuilding Papay. Or they could go south, and he could raid the farmlands. Either way, he needed to be stopped.

_Of course, my Queen,_ Nati replied with a bow. _Our water sprites will destroy the ships at once._

It almost didn't seem fair to the opposition, but DG couldn't bring herself to care. If they were going to use the Sorceress' torturous magic on innocents, she could certainly use her magical army on them. She had ordered a siege, and Green Harbor was going to have it. The entire county would be locked in by land and sea and air, with nothing less than their total defeat as her goal. Siba had to fail.

DG looked down at her black dress. She supposed she looked appropriate enough for what needed to be done next.

She accompanied her mother to the public funeral procession, Cain at her side. At the memorial service for all of the Central City lives lost, the Queen spoke of the good of the people, of how their memory would last in the gardens that would be created out of one of the blast sites. The people in the crowd murmured and nodded at the speech.

Then DG rose to give hers. She started with a warbling smile. "Hello," she began, somewhat awkwardly. "There's been a lot of pain and suffering in the past fifteen annuals, and I know that my arrival here was supposed to mark the end of that." She stopped and looked over the sea of expectant faces. These were ordinary people, _her_ people, the ones she was supposed to take care of. They had felt like abstract concepts before, objects that vaguely mattered in the midst of all her mother's lectures when she first arrived in the OZ. It took her travels in the Mirror Zone to make her think of them as people like herself, people she was now responsible for, no matter how inexperienced she felt.

"I'm sorry," she whispered brokenly at the podium. "I'm sorry I couldn't promise that there was no more pain. I'm sorry that I can't just make it all disappear as if it couldn't happen. I'm sorry I wasn't here for the fifteen annuals, that I was kept safe somewhere else.

"My sister... I know nobody wants to hear it, but she was a victim, too. She was possessed by the Sorceress, a witch twisted and insane and angry. Azkadellia gave herself to try to save the OZ a few months ago, even if nobody wants to talk about it." She ignored the hisses her mother was making. Her mother would rather act as if everything was fine, everything was going to be okay and she was in full control. DG knew better.

"What no one wants to talk about is also why we're here today." DG's voice was heavy with grief, and she blinked back tears threatening to form. "We mourn the people killed in those fires, those bomb blasts, those attacks. You're mourning friends and loved ones and people you've known all your lives. I'm mourning people I never got to know. I'm mourning people that were sacrificed by someone too cowardly to attack me directly." She ignored the murmurs in the crowd, the hopeless sigh of her mother behind her.

DG folded her hands in front of her on the top of the podium. "Lord Herman Siba is angry with me. He says I'm an Other Sider and I can't possibly love the OZ as home. He doesn't like that I've turned down his marriage suit and I won't take him on as an Advisor. He doesn't like that I have a mind of my own, and he's taking it out on you. I'm sorry," she said, looking out at the crowd in front of her, hoping they believed her. "I can't take back what he did, I can't bring anyone back to make it better. All I can do is promise you that I will fight for you, for justice, and make him pay for hurting you. A team of our guards and army is stationed around Central City. Other teams are headed out to Siba and his conspirators. I have allies that I have made on my travels, and they are helping me to keep the OZ safe. I'm sorry he chose this path, but I will do whatever I can to make sure that you are safe. You are my priority, and he will pay for his crimes against the crown and the people of the OZ."

DG stepped down from the podium and went back to her seat beside the Queen and Ahamo. Cain sat on DG's other side, and the Queen watched as their gazes locked and held. It was an oddly intimate moment, even if they didn't say a single word. She sat there, stunned and unable to speak. In that moment, she saw exactly why DG could never accept anyone else's suit, why she could never bow down to the council of nobles or to her Advisors. Her lead Advisor got up and thanked the crowds for their time and patience, and began to discuss the planned memorial park even though it was clear that the crowds had no interest in all of the intricate details.

"You... They'll love you for this," the Queen murmured. "You made it sound like he hurt the people and not just you."

DG looked at her mother, her hand clasped tight between Cain's in support. "He did, Mother. If we're the ones in charge, if we're the ones keeping them safe, then hurting us hurts them. They're the reason we're doing this. They need to be kept safe, to feel like they can go on being farmers and waitresses and teachers and tin men. If we can't keep them safe, there's no point to having a crown on my head."

The Queen looked pointedly to the top of DG's head, which was lacking a coronet. "Where is yours, by the way?"

"In my room, probably," DG said dismissively. "I meant figuratively speaking."

"He will fight, you know," the Queen murmured. "Siba. He'll fight your blockade."

"I know," DG murmured. "It still has to be done. His actions can't go unpunished. He can't kill people and get away with it. He can't torture people and get away with it. He just _can't._ I won't allow it."

The Queen looked at her determined face, the clear and sharp cast to her blue eyes. She felt Ahamo's hand on her arm, steady and strong. She had been so lost without him, cast adrift even before Azkadellia's – no, the _Sorceress'_ – imprisonment had occurred. She needed his support, even though their daughter was steady enough to stand alone. "I believe you." DG nodded at her, and the Queen gave her a faltering smile. "This is why you've also started that war with the Mirror Zone. You can't leave her actions unpunished there either, can you?"

"No, I can't," DG said, voice soft and gentle. "I can't just stand back and watch someone get hurt if I can do something about it. I can't."

The Queen smiled and took DG's free hand and gave it a gentle squeeze. "Then you are exactly what both of our Zones need. You will be a strong and compassionate ruler."

DG gave the Queen a soft smile and then turned back to the crowd. "We'll get through this, Mom. We'll beat him, and then we'll finally have peace."

The Queen almost wanted to tell her that in comparison to the fifteen years under the Sorceress' rule, this _was_ peace. But she understood the sentiment.

"In the name of the royal family and our beloved Queen, we bid you blessings on this day!" the Advisor cried, concluding his statements. It was the traditional way to end all formal royal proclamations made in the OZ.

In unison, the crowd replied "And may the Suns continue to shine!" in the traditional echo.

Siba had made a tactical error in his attacks on Central City. The people _loved_ their Crown Princess. She was trying hard to learn them and their ways, to protect them with all of her idealism. They felt that they had a stake in her well being, just as she had a stake in theirs. If she owned them, they owned a piece of her as well.

Central City was the royal stronghold, and they would help her fight tooth and nail for the rest of the kingdom.

***

The southern farmers hadn't been entirely agreeable to Glitch's explanation behind the guards along the borders or the shadows stretching across the land. Ronsard was eight feet tall, with thick gray skin that was more like animal hide. He had large eyes and a bulbous nose over a mouth full of sharp teeth and a pair of eyeteeth that hung like tusks outside of his lips. He was dressed in a warrior's uniform similar to the official uniform Glitch and Raw were wearing, though he instantly commanded respect just by his sheer size. He spoke quietly, however, and stood somewhat behind Glitch and Raw. They were the Princess' ambassadors to the south, and he was simply the Shadow Brigade general accompanying them.

Raw had to find a mirror to project the visions he and Midnight had of the little black boxes. He had been able to project the decay and twisted forms of the farmers once the boxes opened and released their noxious poisons, and many of them stared at the mirror in horror. If the farmers became the hungry, misshapen things of the mirror's world, the fields would lie untended and fall fallow. Nature would reclaim them, and the outer reaches of the kingdom would grow hungry as the mutated farmers devoured themselves and anyone that came too close.

"He would starve them out?"

"He would do whatever necessary to win," Glitch said, voice firm but still holding a touch of sympathy for their plight. "You don't matter as people to him. You're just... numbers? Names without faces, figures without brains."

Eyes drifted to the zipper at his head, and everyone was aware that the Sorceress had turned him into a headcase for opposing her. This mutation wouldn't be any different from that kind of torture, and it didn't appeal on any level.

"What do we do?" asked the farmer's guild leader.

"We set watch," Glitch began, looking at the soldiers on patrol with thickened shadows. "Siba's men will think our forces are too weak, too thin. He doesn't know about the Shadow Brigade, doesn't know about the forces our good friend Ronsard leads."

All eyes drifted to Ronsard, who nodded solemnly. "We pledged our lives to help your Princess defend these lands for her. In our world, we value the farmer as well."

The guild leader approached him almost hesitantly. "Er... What do your people eat?"

"Food as you do, but less often than you consume them. If we remain in shadow forms, it is much less often." He smiled, a baring of teeth and fangs. "Fear not, I was a farmer before I was a soldier in my world."

Making a decision, the guild leader stuck out his hand. "Oliver Chapin. The others in the villages surrounding this hall voted me leader every annual for the past seven annuals. I've done the rate bargains and helped arrange shipping schedules."

"As the General Haultin discussed his troops' needs, I will discuss this with you," Ronsard told him, shaking his hand carefully. "It will not do for me to remain in this form for long afterward, and I will shift to shadow form."

"Does all of your kind do that?" Oliver asked him, curious.

"Only the Shadow Brigade members and shadow shifters may do such a thing. Heavy spells were worked into our very being by the first Queens of the Unseelie Court, and they could not be undone even with their imprisonment and deaths." Ronsard smiled again, and Oliver found that he wasn't nearly as unsettled as he had been the first time he had seen the smile. "The shadow form allowed us to escape detection for many of your annuals, and will be useful in surprising your enemies. I do not think your Lord Siba will persist in troubling you for long."

Oliver smiled in return. "Good. These are good folk, and should be left in peace."

Glitch clapped his hands together and beamed at the collected people around him. "This is great news! Now let's get to the main hall and get to work."

***

There were powerful magic barriers in place surrounding Central City and the southern lands, a fact which Lord Siba was finding more and more annoying. What was the use in stealing the Sorceress' Viewer apparatus and kidnapping a Viewer child if he couldn't find out what they were up to? It was as if a large shadow had descended across the lands that were still loyal to the House of Gale, and it was maddening.

Ruby Gulch supplied many rich ores and rubies to Siba for his protection and access to his granaries. Caronet's primary industry was industry, as its farmlands were much too arid for most crops to survive for long enough periods of time to feed its entire populace. If need be, the three counties could break away and form its own little kingdom. The House of Gale would have to reckon with his combined forces; they hadn't yet felt the bite of his withdrawal from their little mutual admiration society. He had the largest harbors, the mining, the manufacturing and enough of agriculture to subsist without the crown's help. He could be a threat to their stability, even if the silly Crown Princess refused to see that.

But this shadow over her lands irked him. His pet Viewer couldn't tell him anything, and none of his advisors or spies were talking.

"Send in the black death," he told his army commanders, lips pulled back into a grimace of a smile. "Let the crown know just who they are dealing with."

"Right away, my lord," one of his commanders said.

He watched them bow and leave, content in the power he wielded. He had his plans and was acting swiftly. There was no way the royal family could counter him this quickly, and he was secure in the fact that he had superior numbers to his personal army. Soon enough, he would have the entire OZ at his fingertips. The royal house would be left in ruins, and he would rise to begin a new royal house. Maybe he would be merciful and take the silly Crown Princess to wife anyway. She was pretty enough, and obviously stupid. She would have to be controlled, of course, but that was what his court magician was for. Potions and spells would easily bind her loyalty and shape her will to his. The rest of the House of Gale could be summarily executed; Siba had no need of the rest of them, and Azkadellia was half dead as it was.

King Siba had a wonderful ring to it.

***

DG sat in front of her mirror, staring at her reflection. She had tried contacting Azkadellia by the compact mirror, and had been told that they were in the wrong time but correct place. "I have an idea," Azkadellia said, lips quirking into a smile that DG hadn't recognized. "I think the creatures that have been terrorizing the locals could be used to help attack Lurlaine. We're heading out to meet them now."

She felt like she was doing a lot of sitting, waiting and talking. This wasn't the same as running around and doing things on her own. Ine'che and Ataio had resumed her magic lessons, and it felt like some alien creature running through her veins at times. Her magic almost _burned,_ almost lit her up from within as if she was a candle. She didn't even need the symbol flaring to life on her palm anymore. Now she could focus her magic much more easily, and she could simply make things happen.

It was almost frightening, really.

She brushed out her hair slowly, methodically. She could remember her other mother doing that for her as a child, even if the memories were long since gone. The Queen had done that, too, and she had those memories back as well. Still, the memories that came to mind first and foremost were almost always the Other Side ones. It was calming, in a way. As much as the Queen wanted to make her over into something different, something more like what the OZ was used to, DG held onto her memories tightly. They were part of her, they made her the Princess that everyone was counting on. The Queen might not understand the implications of letting go of that side of herself, but DG did. And she had no intentions of following the Queen's word on things when she had missed out on fifteen years of her life.

She watched Cain enter her suite and remove his waistcoat carefully. He came to stand behind her, not quite touching her as she brushed her hair. "Difficult day?" he asked finally, seeing an almost glazed look in her eyes.

"How could I be so tired if I haven't been doing anything? No running, no fighting, nothing. Just sitting and talking and for a change, sitting some more." DG put the brush down and turned around to face Cain. True, the magic lessons were sometimes draining, but she was enjoying those as much as she was afraid of what she was becoming.

"It's called responsibility," Cain replied, lips quirking into a smile. "These things happen as you get older, kid."

DG got to her feet and looped her arms around Cain's neck. "You know, I did mention something about kids a while back."

"Isn't it bad form to be pregnant before the wedding day?"

"I notice you didn't mention having wild, fantastic sex," DG quipped.

Cain heaved a playfully dramatic sigh. "Knowing you, it would be a waste of time to pretend to care about that part."

She giggled and kissed him. "I keep feeling like I'm waiting for something. Ever get like that?"

"All the time," Cain murmured, running his hands along her back.

"So how do you deal with that?"

"Just move through it. You know why you're feeling that way. You're expecting the worst in the south and with Siba. You're expecting the worst to happen with Azkadellia. It doesn't have to be some kind of horrible thing happening."

DG snorted. "Coming from you, that's rich. Didn't you think all sorts of horrible things would happen if we got together?"

"Considering I'm now a baron, it isn't as bad as I thought it would be," he hedged, though his lips quirked into a smile. "I still say it would have been bad for you if I wasn't nobility."

DG rested her head against his chest and listened to his heart beating beneath her ear. It was a comforting sound, something that lulled her to sleep now. She didn't know how she had ever lived without it, how anyone could ever expect her to. "We're getting married as soon as this war is over, right?"

"I'm pretty sure it's something everyone expects," he said, amused. "Why? Don't tell me you're starting to get nervous?"

DG looked up, lips twisting into a bright smile. "Maybe I should get around to planning our wedding then? If they're going to have me sit around all day, it might as well be for something useful, right?"

Cain sighed. "Could we just skip all of the nonsense and just get it done _now_ while we have the excuse of a war? No one would be offended if it wasn't some ritzy thing with all this frippery," he said.

"You _don't_ want to show off to the entire world how much you love me?" DG teased, looking up at him. "I think I'm hurt."

He shook his head solemnly. "I did it once before, the large party and the family and the wildly outrageous expectations..." He shrugged. "Can't say I'd like to repeat the experience."

"Well, your family is Jeb, who's very likable. I have only one set of parents now, and Azkadellia is considered dead by most people, so she can't be there. Glitch and Rawn and Ine'che and a bunch of our Shadow Brigade people would go. It's going to be really, really small. So it's not scary at all, okay?"

"Then there's the nobility, the merchant class, and a smattering of the common folk that gets to go to events like this. You can't leave them out."

"I can't?" DG asked, pouting. Cain nodded, and DG merely put her head down. "Well, I'm sure I'd plan something less monstrous than what my mother is planning."

"I'm sure she would do something that would advance you politically."

"Like I said. Monstrous."

Cain laughed and tightened his arms around her. "We'll get through it the same way we do with everything else." He was gratified to see her smile and look more like her carefree self.

***  
***


	9. Questionable Allies

The path wound its way through a broken down and abandoned village, the road crumbling in places. The forest was trying to retake the road in places, tree roots causing the brick to buckle and break apart, allowing the low shrubbery to settle into the exposed dirt. Azkadellia, Della and Callan looked at the cottages, roofs sagging, paint peeling and walls collapsing in places. The doors and windows were broken, and it looked almost like tiny parallel wheel tracks were impressed into the dirt around the houses.

"Seems to be the place," Callan commented. "Should I go first?"

"Why you?"

His lips stretched into a grimace of a smile. "They call me Ghost for a reason, Delia."

She thought of protesting, but he was already gliding toward the houses, gun in hand and hidden beneath the loose sleeve of his borrowed shirt. She turned to Della then, head tilted to the side. "And you, then? What about you?"

"They'll still try to outnumber us. Your choice either way. I can go to the shadows and try to blend in, or we walk in together."

"Together," she said instantly.

They followed the broken path, crumbling cobblestones and brick beneath their feet. They could feel Callan's presence nearby, as he scouted through the dilapidated houses ahead of them. If she hadn't spelled him months ago, she never would have known where he was. His lanky frame was hidden, and she couldn't hear his footfalls. "He's good," she murmured.

"You worry about us too much. These guys don't have magic, so we're on equal footing."

"Wheels, Paul," she reminded him, a smile on her face.

He merely grinned at her, though she could tell he was on alert. Something had moved in his peripheral vision, and he wasn't about to simply write it off as a wild animal. The forest had been entirely too quiet before they fell upon the village, so Della could only assume that meant at least a handful of these Wheelers were skulking about. They could be drawn to the fact that it was a couple alone on this broken road, but also because of Azkadellia's staff. It was hard to hide the emerald or disguise it as anything other than what it was.

"I'll let you handle it first," Azkadellia murmured. "I'll only use magic as a last resort."

Della smiled. "Good. I wouldn't want Callan to get all of the fun."

It was in the remains of the square that the Wheelers descended. They came from all sides, intending to trap Azkadellia and Della by the dry, crumbling fountain in the very center of the village. One quadrant was noticeably thinner than the others, and Azkadellia couldn't quite hide the thrill of pride she felt at the sight. Della was in front of her, partially blocking her from the Wheelers, intent on thinning their ranks even further. She fingered the defensive runes on the walking staff, activating them with a thought. The runes flared to life, though mortal eyes could never see the flash of magic or the glow imbuing the staff.

The Wheelers didn't notice her. She was still behind Della, not moving, but she simply wasn't their focus any longer. They saw Della, tall and strong and solidly built. They saw a target, prey, the fun they could have while they figured out their next move.

One of the braver ones came forward, rolling slowly. His clothes were ragged caricatures of brightly colored outfits, and his dark hair was twisted into spikes around his head. His face was painted white, red and yellow, the primary colors in his outfit. The wheels at his hands and feet were also tinged in red and yellow. He reminded Azkadellia of Glitch somehow, and thought that perhaps he was the leader of this band, which numbered close to forty. "Lost, mate? You come all this way to us, you should belong to us, then."

Della's stony expression never wavered, and his hand was over his gun. "It's not a wise move to come closer," he intoned, voice dark with purpose.

The Wheelers around them laughed, voice high pitched and tinged with madness. Maybe they had been angry and desperate once, but now most of them were simply mad. This one in front seemed to be the sanest out of the lot of them. "You're in Wheeler country now, little man," he told Della, his mouth full of sharp, broken teeth. His dark eyes flashed. "You're in with _my_ people, and we take what we want."

Wheelers came in closer, some rushing forward with their arms up, spinning wheels level with Della's chest. Without even breaking his gaze with the apparent leader, he shot three of them dead in the center of their foreheads. The other four stopped, mouths contorting in anger at the sight of their fallen comrades. "I don't think so," Della said smoothly, face still stony. "How many more of your men are going to die?"

The leader's lips were drawn back in a snarl. "Get him!"

The Wheelers behind him surged forward, and Della shot the ones in front. When he ran out of bullets, he didn't waste time reloading. He used the gun as a blunt instrument as he reached for the one tucked into the small of his back. Azkadellia put up an invisible wall behind them, keeping the Wheelers coming in a single direction at once. She thought she could see something pale moving through the forest before there was the sound of further gunfire.

This wasn't all of the Wheelers terrorizing the countryside, Azkadellia knew, but there was no need to kill them all if she didn't have to. "Paul?" she called out.

He was throwing one Wheeler at two more, and didn't look back. "Yeah?" he grunted, swinging at another Wheeler's face.

"We need some of them alive."

"I'm keeping that in mind, sweetheart," he ground out, punching another one in the face. "See? Not killing all of them."

The Wheeler leader looked up and saw Azkadellia behind Della, saw the ebony staff and the winking emerald at the top of it. "You're not Mombi."

"No," she agreed. "I'm not."

He whistled, high pitched and with a cadence to it almost like it was a language of whistles. "So who are you, then? Not common folk, for certain." The other Wheelers fell back into line behind him, watching and waiting, eyes sharp and looking for an angle to attack if their leader called for it again.

"I am Princess Azkadellia of the Outer Zone," she said, looking him in the eye. The Practitioners within her merely smiled. No one knew who she was in the Mirror Zone, so his confusion was expected. No one was expecting her.

"That means nothing 'round these parts," the leader said, pushing off of his arms to stand on his legs. His lip curled into a sneer. "You ain't no princess."

"Well, this isn't the land of Ev. I suppose we're even," she replied tartly.

The leader growled and the others hissed behind him, pressing closer. The name Ev clearly agitated them. "So you're one with the Queen."

"Not Lurlaine," Azkadellia replied. "I work with the Unseelie Court."

"That's a filthy lie!" someone shouted in the back of the group. "They've been gone forever!"

"There used to be an Oz and Ev," Azkadellia began, not taking her eyes off of the group. "Over time in my world, Oz became the Outer Zone. Here, it became a lot of other different places, reflected back through mirrors."

"You can't take this new land," the leader snarled, raising his wheeled arm. "You tell your filthy whore of a Queen we won't give it up! She took everything else, but she won't take this!"

Azkadellia heaved a sigh of annoyance. "All right, Paul, I'm going to have to do something about this. We won't get anywhere until they listen."

He nodded. "Sounds like a magic thing."

"Definitely a magic thing," she agreed. With a wave of her hands, all of the Wheelers were frozen in place where they were. "There. I think now they'll listen."

Della nodded, taking a perverse kind of pleasure in the frightened look in the Wheelers' eyes. For creatures with no hands or feet, they hit pretty damn hard.

"I don't care about your lands. I do care about you terrorizing farmers, and I don't like it." Her gaze rested on all of them, her voice thick with disapproval. "It's someone weak and petty that preys on those weaker than they are to feel strong," she added, a touch of her own self-loathing coming through in her words. Aliana stirred to protest, but Azkadellia ignored it. "I'm going to let you speak, but you can't move anything else."

The leader's eyes blazed with hatred. "Your flipping Queen took our lands and killed our women and children. You can't take this from us now!"

"I've come here to unseat Queen Lurlaine," Azkadellia hissed. "My sister DG is the Queen of the Unseelie Court, and she wants to see Lurlaine gone for what she did to Ozma."

"They say Princess Ozma is in the Sanctuary. She's been there for the past ninety years for her hundred years' rest," the Wheeler leader spat. "Shows what a liar you are. She's the most precious creature in the Zone. That master of yours knows better than to hurt the Princess."

Azkadellia's smile was almost sinister. "So there are whispers about that, are there?"

The Wheeler leader bristled. "Lies, all of it. Ozma's eternal, she can't be hurt."

Azkadellia held out her staff. "This isn't something common to the Mirror Zone. This is from the Outer Zone, from the time of the Emerald City and used by its defenders. It was given to me by the last of the wyverns."

There was something in the leader's face that shifted. He wanted to believe her, wanted to believe that something could possibly be done. "We've no part in that," he snarled. "Never part of the war, never chose a side and sixty years ago she takes our lands for sport. No, stranger, I won't listen to the lies of her servants."

She was almost losing her temper. While she had never thought this would be an easy task, she had never really had to deal with frustration for long. Even as the Sorceress, she had a hard time keeping her temper in check. Her months as the focus of whispers had helped her learn how to hold her tongue, but it didn't stop the wild burst of resentment flooding through her.

"What if you could get even?" Azkadellia asked, voice smooth. "What if you could take back what she'd stolen from you?"

He didn't trust her, had no real reason to other than her word. "You're a trick."

"I'm here to try and get an army together. I have the Shadow Brigade, and they're recruiting as well. We plan to storm the Sanctuary and get Lurlaine off of the throne for good. Are you with me?" she asked, an edge to her words.

The Wheeler leader pondered that. "Maybe. Maybe we've got others worth talking to."

"Then let's talk," Azkadellia replied, smiling. Della was uncomfortably reminded of the smiles he had seen on the Sorceress' face during public appearances. It was chilling to see on Azkadellia's face, even if he knew that the Sorceress was gone.

The leader's name was Mattoon, and he knew a few other enclaves of Wheelers scattered in the area. They had all survived a raid on their territory, when the shadows had descended and kept everyone trapped in place. It had been uncomfortably similar to Azkadellia's freezing spell, which had been what set off Mattoon's distrust anew. During the raid, Lurlaine herself had entered once all of her shadowy servants had pinned the people in place. Then all the women and young children were stripped of their souls or carted away to be brought to the Sanctuary. The survivors left behind guessed that it was to be consumed later. The male Wheelers had all been released once Lurlaine was safely back in her Sanctuary.

Azkadellia easily got their promise to leave the farmers and villagers alone. They heard of other pockets of unrest in the Mirror Zone, and as a body, they headed for the Low Realms, a collection of areas with no clear ruler that was deemed not even worth Lurlaine's time to tame and take taxes from. Untrodden Sands, Barbed Torrent, Mist Parish, Glorious Pale and the Studded Steeps were possibly the most notorious of the Low Realms, and they were headed straight to the Mist Parish.

The protection runes on the ebony staff were at full strength and extended to cover Azkadellia, Della and Callan as they moved through the Mist Parish. The locals were even more ragged than the Wheelers, figures almost skeletal as they hovered just above starvation. Azkadellia thought she saw someone get knifed in the gut as they passed an alley, but didn't stop to look more closely. She needed allies in this war DG wanted, and she would have to rely on her tin men and her magic to stay safe. She would see this war to the conclusion, and she would honor her promise to DG as best as she could.

Mattoon led them to the Iron Cauldron pub. The Wheelers scattered to the streets, finding pockets to stay hidden in. Mattoon couldn't handle the stairs well, but Callan helped him navigate them. Waiting inside the pub's basement room was a troll sitting cross-legged on the floor. He leveled his gaze at the group of them. His skin was a mottled green, and a large, jagged scar stretched across the right side of his face. His right eye was milky and sightless, but his left made up for it. There was a tall black woman at his side, tending to a deep wound in his left arm. She was dressed in thick furs that kept her shape hidden.

"Hani," Mattoon said, nodding at Azkadellia, Callan and Della. "They say they're Unseelie."

The troll's gaze sharpened. "Dangerous to say so."

"I've got the Shadow Brigade canvassing the Zone for more volunteers."

The woman didn't spare them a glance, even when the troll hissed at her prodding. "You're either very good or very foolish."

Azkadellia smiled. "Perhaps a little of both."

"That Court's been destroyed for far too long."

"Over three thousand years," Azkadellia said with a nod, her inner Practitioners hissing in agreement. "But it's been invoked once again by Crown Princess Dorothy Gale of the Outer Zone. I'm her sister Azkadellia."

"Dorothy Gale," Hani murmured, lips pulling back into a ghastly smile. His fangs and broken teeth were entirely too sharp, too blackened and too intimidating. "Well, if that isn't a name from the story books, I don't know what is. Azkadellia, was it?" he asked, though it was clear he remembered her name. "Related to Delia of the Silver Enclave?"

"Who was she?" Della asked, remembering that DG had called Azkadellia by the name once.

"An advisor to Queen Titania once upon a time," Hani replied. "But Lurlaine destroyed the Enclave when she took the throne. They didn't exactly approve of how command seemed to move from Elaine to Lurlaine."

"How did Delia die?" Callan asked, curious.

"Oh, that's just it," Hani laughed. The woman at his side poured some kind of caustic material into his wound, and it smoked. "Ach, ginger with that arm." The woman nodded and began to bind it. "The Lady Delia disappeared and was never found again. No body, no trace of her magic threads, nothing. The rest of the Enclave were smoking corpses in the Silver City."

"Then I'll be Lady Delia," Azkadellia replied, leaning on the ebony staff. She smiled sweetly at the assembled parties. "It should unsettle Lurlaine enough to give us an advantage."

Hani nodded at the woman at his side and tossed her a pouch of coins for her services. "Give my best to your son," he told her as she bowed slightly. "Perhaps Mattoon can keep watch over the boy in case they come back." The woman nodded and took Mattoon's arm. They left the room, the sound of Mattoon's wheels loud on the basement stairs. "Good woman and good healer," he muttered at Azkadellia and the tin men.

"She doesn't speak?" Callan asked.

"Hard to do that with a tongue cut out," Hani said sharply. "Husband killed by the Black Torrent Guild, raped by one of the raiding parties, tongue cut out and left for dead. It's the way of it out here, and the Sanctuary wants none of us. We care for our own in these parts."

"So why does Mattoon think you'll be able to help us?" Azkadellia asked, head cocked to the side in curiosity.

Hani's smile was just as gruesome the second time around. "I control Mist Parish by the strength of my fists. I've a treaty with the Ventra of the Untrodden Sands, Tari Clan of the Barbed Torrent, the Nightwalkers of the Glorious Pale and the golems of the Studded Steeps. Not that any of us in these wastes are particularly enamored of the bitch queen, but most of ours were thrown out of our own homelands. We did trade with the Wheelers for millennia. Had to stop when she destroyed them, but that's the way of things."

"My sister's plan is to put Ozma on the throne," Azkadellia told him. "I'm sure she'd give all of you proper lands."

"Good luck with that. I met her once, in my youth. The girl's mind is empty. Pretty but empty, like a doll. She's a figurehead and nothing more. That's why the bitch queen's lasted so long. No one else would dare destroy her for fear of harming Ozma, and she's not able to take control on her own." Hani turned and pushed at the wall beside him. "You'd best head out of the Cauldron and into the fires," he grunted. "In case anyone followed you here."

"Perhaps the Brigade members?" Della offered.

"Safety shouldn't be something to scoff at," Hani countered. "You don't know these lands. I do. Get into the damned tunnel and I'll bring you the Nightwalkers. They're the closest and most likely where some of the Brigade would have gone."

They kept their mouths shut and followed Hani. He led them through a maze of tunnels beneath the surface. It was dank and faintly musty, but overall in fairly good repair. There were no markings on the walls, but Hani knew where they were going. The emerald seemed to glow faintly, casting just enough light for the humans to see in the dark. Hani didn't remark on it, though his eyes seemed a little less threatening when he looked at them. They finally headed up toward the surface after what seemed like hours. He approved that none of the humans had complained about the walk, though they were clearly tired.

The Glorious Pale was a land of eternal twilight. There was no noonday sun, and a thin mist seemed to hover over the ground. They left a cavern and Hani led them to another inn named the Iron Cauldron. "Is that a theme?" Callan asked.

"Faeries can't stand cold iron," Hani replied darkly. "So names like this are common amongst those that have a reason to love iron."

Entering the pub, the humans could see what the Nightwalkers really were. Vampires.

They were vaguely human in shape, though becoming vampires had corrupted them. They were tall creatures with pale gray skin, hunched shoulders and hooked hands ending in claws. Their hair was uniformly white and thin, their eyes unnaturally reflective of the half light in the Glorious Pale. They wore somber, pale colors as a rule, and seemed capable of blending into the fine mist over the ground if they so chose.

Hani smiled his fearsome smile at the Nightwalker behind the bar. "Lissa still around these parts? Or has it passed on to Galan yet?"

The Nightwalker smiled, baring her mouthful of sharp teeth. "I remember you, Hani Somme Annan of the C'vali tribe. Lissa is in her receiving room." The Nightwalker flicked a glance at the three humans behind Hani. "And these?"

"Are guests of the realm," Hani replied coldly. "Lissa will enjoy their company as peers."

The smile instantly fell from the Nightwalker's face. "She has no peers."

Hani merely turned and headed toward the stairs at the back of the main room. "She does now."

The four mortals reached the receiving room without incident, and Hani strode inside with an imperious manner. "Lissa. I bring you peerage."

The Nightwalker sitting by the fireplace was dressed in black velvet robes that had a subtle brown design woven into it. Her hair was a very faint blonde instead of white, and she turned to face them, deep eye sockets reflecting the firelight. She rose, and her skin looked translucent, stretched tight against her misshapen skull. "Peerage," she said, her voice sounding like pieces of broken glass grating against each other. "Interesting. You always bring me interesting news, Hani. I heard Bala below. She enjoys giving you a hard time."

"She doesn't enjoy the fact that I bested her for control of the Mist Parish. Understandable."

Lissa moved closer, and it seemed as if she didn't walk, but glided as if she was mist. "There is much magic in this room. You brought me a Practitioner and her honor guard, Hani." She smiled, exposing her twin rows of sharpened teeth. "You do bring the best presents."

Hani indicated Azkadellia. "Lady Delia of the Silver Enclave."

Lissa hissed and moved back toward the fireplace instantly, lips pulled back in a grimace of horror. She said something in a language that was incomprehensible, but clearly conveyed her agitation. She made a warding gesture with her hand, but Azkadellia stayed where she was.

"Azkadellia of the Outer Zone, actually," Azkadellia murmured after a moment, taking in Hani's obvious enjoyment of Lissa's discomfiture. "This is Benji Callan and Paul Della."

Lissa came forward cautiously, then sniffed the air around them. "You are a Practitioner. I feel the concentrated magic in you." Azkadellia nodded. "Your guards... They stink of you and your magic. I do not smell lies."

"I'm not lying," Azkadellia replied. She was tempted to activate the defensive runes on the ebony staff, but kept still. Lissa was testing things out, trying to see if Azkadellia was safe. She could understand the impulse. "I'm not sure if there's really a way to prove that I'm with the Unseelie Court right now. The rest of the Shadow Brigade is out recruiting forces as well."

Lissa's eyes narrowed. "Unseelie Court? Well, now. That's... _dangerous."_

"I'm letting you know as a show of faith," Azkadellia said, turning her head to follow Lissa as she moved off to the side to look at Callan and Della. "I'm trusting you not to turn us in, hoping that you'll trust me enough to help me."

"Oh? And what's in it for me?" she asked, voice like a whip crack in the silence.

"Same as I've offered to Hani. Extended lands once Ozma is on the throne."

Lissa laughed, a high pitched cackle that grated on the humans' spines. "Oh, she is a mindless poppet, that one. She's a pretty doll with strings for Lurlaine to pull. Oh, no, she can't rule the Sanctuary _or_ any of the outlying lands. If even _Lurlaine_ has given up on the Low Realms, Ozma has no hope of ruling." Lissa turned to Hani, amused. "I assume you told these mortals as much." Hani nodded solemnly. "Well, then. Are you helping them?"

"I brought them to you, didn't I?"

"True enough. But you wanted to scare me and amuse me at turns. Are you actually pledging help in their cause?"

"If you are, perhaps."

Lissa laughed and returned to her chair. "Then we are at an impasse, are we not? Why should I help an uncertain cause? Why should you? Why should any of your other allies or any of mine? I have kept the Glorious Pale apart from Lurlaine's realms and safe for millennia. I had no part in her fanatical war, and I had errand boys from both sides killed to be sure that my people stayed neutral and safe." She looked at Azkadellia, teeth bared. "What do you offer me, then? Not your fantasy hopes or lofty names. I have no need of trifles."

Azkadellia knew she would have to talk to DG about it later, but she really had only one thing worth bargaining with. She lowered her staff so that the emerald shone and reflected the firelight back into Lissa's eyes. "We have a cache of emeralds and emerald-imbued weapons. I can make arrangements for some to slip into this realm."

Lissa's eyes sharpened. "Emerald magic?" She leapt to her feet and was in front of Azkadellia in an instant, her eyes boring into hers. Her mercurial moods were frightening, but Azkadellia stood firm. If she crumbled now, they would likely all be lost. "Perhaps you are indeed Lady Delia of the Silver Enclave. She hid all of the Emerald City's fabulous treasures from Lurlaine before she disappeared." Lissa touched Azkadellia's cheek, a ghost of a smile on her face. Azkadellia stayed very, very still, not even daring to breathe. "This staff of yours is one, isn't it? I can feel its magic, I can feel it bound to you. And you yourself... You are something else. Something strange, even for a Practitioner."

"Perhaps I'm enough to tip the scales to win the war."

Lissa laughed. "Oh, yes. You _are_ Lady Delia of the Silver Enclave. You are, indeed. She had a tongue like that, the sheer willpower to _make_ things happen." She flicked her eyes at Hani. "You do bring wonderful gifts when you are so inclined. I'd say this will solidify our treaty for another thousand years."

Hani bowed his head slightly. "I thought it might."

"Are you prepared to push your forces out of the Mist?"

"If you're prepared to leave the Glorious Pale."

Lissa bared her teeth in a ghastly caricature of a smile. "I will call on my allies and let you call on your others. I think between us we may control half of the Low Realms, do we not? Or we know the major players involved." She glided slowly back to her chair by the fireplace. "I do believe my people would be obliged to leave the Pale under cover of night, if we can arrange for daylight transport." She turned to look at Azkadellia. "We burn in the sun, Lady Delia, as if the very fires of hell were inside us. But few can escape us once twilight descends. Our kind would enjoy the thrill of the hunt."

"You can board them?" Hani asked, sounding bored. "I've a ways to travel, and they won't survive the journey to the Untrodden Sands or the Studded Steeps. The Wheelers also pledged to follow this one." Azkadellia managed to mask her surprise at that statement, though Callan and Della couldn't quite.

Lissa merely smiled and nodded. "They may stay in the suite beside mine, as guests of honor. You did call them guests of the realm and Peerage. It's only right."

It also allowed her to monitor them closely, just in case they were duplicitous.

Azkadellia inclined her head toward Lissa. "My lady, we thank you."

Her smile was sharp, her expression edged with something that Azkadellia could only call retribution. "It will be a glorious revolution. For that alone, _I_ thank _you."_

***  
***


	10. And Justice For All

A collection of Siba's men worked their way into the south, each armed with a small black box filled with virulent toxins and poisons. As they approached the rich farmlands of the OZ's southern regions, rumors began regarding the region's protectors. Two of the Crown Princess DG's Advisors, Raw and Glitch, were present to patrol the borders of the farmland. But there were not many of the palace guards in place, the rumors said, and some doubts if they would be enough to stop Siba's men.

Each man knew that they were would-be assassins of innocent farmers. They slipped into the shadows between the palace guards. To a man, they each were stuck inside the shadows, unable to move. To their horror, they almost seemed to sink down into it, until they were knee-deep in the inky shadows.

And the shadows had teeth. And claws.

One man tried to open his box of horrors, but the contagion poured down onto his chest and started to consume him whole. His screams were terrible to hear.

Raw shuddered inside Oliver Chapin's farmhouse, putting his hands over his ears. "The box is open, he couldn't drown the shadows with it," he said, squeezing his eyes tight. "He's becoming the thing we feared most."

Glitch looked at Oliver, Ronsard and Raw. "I have an awful idea."

Oliver looked up from the pitchfork he had been repairing by the fire. Ronsard was in shadow form, and looked like a patch of shadow on the wall with eyes and fangs. "What is it, then?"

"What if we return the gift Siba would have left for us?" The others stilled, staring at Glitch in horror. "What if we give him the men he would have made you into?"

"That's an evil I don't want to contemplate," Oliver said, shuddering.

But Ronsard was grinning, fangs flashing in the firelight. "You are truly our General. We will do this thing for you. Our shadow forms cannot be corrupted by this toxin."

Oliver and Raw looked at Glitch as Ronsard left to discuss things with his men. "How could you condemn those men to that fate?" Oliver asked in horror.

"They know what they carry," Raw murmured, shaking his head. "They know they hurt innocent men for Lord Siba."

"They aren't innocent," Glitch said, voice sad. "Maybe they were innocent once, but they aren't close to it now. And maybe this would let Siba think twice before he attacks the innocent again," he added hopefully.

"You'd let those things loose on his innocent people," Oliver pointed out.

"Oh, I'm sure Ronsard's better than that. He can figure it out so that the army and navy and such will be getting the brunt of it," Glitch replied. "We can't let the innocents anywhere be hurt like this. That's the point of this war."

"War's just so the bigger folk can play chess with people," Oliver replied, standing. "I'm going out for air. I need to think on this a bit."

Glitch looked at Raw after he left. "Was it something I said?"

***

DG sat in bed beside Cain. They'd pretty much given up all pretense of having separate quarters in the palace, which scandalized her mother. Ahamo seemed to take it in stride, but he liked Cain and thought he was a good influence on DG. Cain was reading the reports of the palace guards and the various reports from Central City's defense. Frustrated, DG plucked them from his hands and put them onto the nightstand. He looked at her, brows furrowing. "I need to look those over. Someone named me a General, after all."

"Yes. But I think you need a break. Too much reading makes you all tense and tired," she said, leaning into him. She smiled her most charming smile, and he merely rolled his eyes at her in playful exasperation. "I have an idea."

"Should I be afraid of this idea?"

"Oh, I'm pretty sure you'll like it."

Eyes locked to his, she leaned forward and kissed him on the lips, gentle but sure. Cain laid a hand along her arm, rubbing it gently in a soothing motion. DG drew her fingers up to the juncture of his thighs, tracing the shape of his sex through his sleep pants. There was a slight hitch in his breathing that he tried to hide. Cain liked to keep himself so still and controlled that he was impossible to read sometimes. At other times, it seemed as if DG was fluent in the language of Wyatt Cain, and she used it to her advantage. She knelt over him, stroking his cock as she kissed him. When DG broke the kiss to look at him, lips quirked into a smile, he merely returned her gaze evenly. She could tell that he was trying to keep from laughing, trying to keep from simply thrusting up into her hand. He wanted to play her little game, and DG had every intention of obliging him.

DG leaned forward and kissed Cain's jaw, moving to drop fluttering kisses along his neck and chest. She slipped her hand beneath the waistband of his sleep pants to run her fingertips along his cock. His hand on her arm trailed down her body and pulled up the edge of her filmy nightgown. Cain couldn't help but smile as his fingers moved between her spread legs. He traced her folds gently, then came up to stroke her clit. Her breath caught and her hand tightened fractionally over him. He made a soft sound deep in his throat as her hand moved over him, and it emboldened her further. DG moved her hand along his length and kissed him full on the mouth. She touched her tongue to his lips, and he opened them. She slid her tongue into his mouth and touched his. Cain slid his tongue along hers, then a finger inside of her as his thumb worked her clit.

DG broke the kiss and buried her face in the crook of his neck when she came. Cain had one hand between her legs, the other at her back to help her keep her balance. DG gasped for breath, not sure she would get it back. He hadn't stopped his strokes against her clit, and turned his head to kiss her shoulder next to the nightgown strap. When she pulled back slightly, he leaned forward and took a breast into his mouth. He began to suckle it through the thin fabric, and if anything that seemed to make the touch of his tongue even more electric.

She came again with a strangled groan, her strokes along his cock erratic. Cain lifted his hips and dragged down the waistband to his sleep pants. DG pulled them off the rest of the way, then pulled her nightgown up and over her head. Both pieces of clothing were tossed somewhere behind her, and neither particularly cared to track where they fell. Cain positioned her over him, his cock just gracing her entrance. He looked up at her, a smile on his face. "You seem to have the best ways to relax, don't you, kid?" he asked, voice gruff with need.

"See? I'm full of fabulous ideas," she returned with a laugh.

Cain let out a sigh of pleasure as DG sank down along his length. Hands along her hips, he guided her as she rocked against him, as her eyes fell closed with the feel of him inside of her. She gasped, mouth open as she struggled to breathe. He felt so good inside of her, and knew she was mumbling about how he felt, how much she wanted him, how much she loved him. DG's eyes flew open at the feel of his hand moving between their bodies to touch her clit again, and she gasped. Cain moved his other hand to cup a breast, fingers pulling at her nipple. She leaned forward, her hands on his shoulders, eyes locked to his. Neither said a word as she came again, tight around his length. He moved his hands to her hips, pulling and pushing her against him until he came inside her wet heat with a groan.

"Definitely a good way to relax," he murmured as she fell against him.

"Good. Sleep now," she said with a yawn. "Strategize tomorrow."

He laughed and cradled her close. "Yes, Princess."

"Uh huh. And don't you forget it," DG replied with a laugh.

***

Ine'che stood on a random balcony, looking up at the nighttime moon. She could almost feel the moonlight as a tangible thing, could almost feel it prickle and burn as if it was fire. She wanted to shed the illusion of humanity and circle the land, to feel her wings stretch from her back and _fly._ But it would scare these innocent folk, would make them think their worst nightmares were coming true.

Perhaps this form in this land was no different a prison from the caverns she had inhabited in the Mirror Zone.

_You seem pensive,_ came a voice to her right. Ine'che turned to look at Ataio, gliding in from a nighttime flight with Midnight. The young mobat chattered happily then flew off to return to DG. Ataio perched on the balcony railing. _What troubles you?_

She shrugged. _I have exchanged one prison for another, it seems. This one is merely gilt around the edges, but still a prison._

_Because you cannot be a wyvern as you would wish?_ Ataio leaned forward. _They stare at you. They look and watch and know you are something different than they are. They _know_ something is odd about you, Ybred Ine'che._ Ataio leaned back and smiled, his little pointed teeth glittering in the dark. _As they should._

_Should they? I fought no wars, killed no souls. I was passive then, I am passive now._

_Perhaps,_ Ataio allowed, still grinning at the wyvern. _But these creatures hold such fear in them, such darkness. They are such wonderfully contradictory beings._

Ine'che turned away from Ataio. "Was there something you wanted?" she asked, tucking her hair behind her ears in a human gesture she had picked up from DG. She wrapped her arms around her middle at his delighted laughter. "I'm so glad I amuse you so."

Ataio shifted form so that he was humanoid in shape, looking almost like Della in a peasant's clothes. He slid an arm around Ine'che's waist, his lips hovering by her ear. "Come fly with me, Ybred Ine'che. You are a child of the sky and you yearn to fly. Fly with me."

She shivered at the sound of his gravelly voice, at the thought of flight. She had flown four times in this realm, all of it hidden from the general populace. It was like a dirty secret beneath her skin, though it was never any edict from DG or the Queen that kept her land bound. "I..."

Ataio began unhooking the buttons and catches on the dress Ine'che was wearing. "Fly with me, little one." His voice was low, almost endearing, almost tender. "Feel the sky against your skin, feel the wind move past you. Remember how it is to move in the way you were meant, remember the way of your kind."

Ine'che turned as he pulled the dress from her shoulders. "What do you want of me?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

His grin was predatory. "Flight, child. Give me something to chase worthy of me."

"Would you catch me?" she asked, stepping out of the dress. She was bare in the moonlight, but she wasn't human. There was no false sense of modesty about this form she was wearing.

"Would you let me?" Ataio challenged.

Ine'che let go of her magic, let go of the human form she had clung to. Her skin rippled, her body changing so that it was wyvern once more. _I wish to fly,_ she told Ataio, her voice soft and almost mournful. _I wish to remember the old times, before the Faerie war._

Ataio ran a hand along her back, caressing the shimmering scales. _Then fly, child. We'll see if the wind lets me catch you._

Ine'che took off from the balcony, heading up toward the moon. She stretched out her wings, letting them catch a gust of wind. She cartwheeled and spun around in lazy circles, getting the feel for the currents of air in this strange land.

She saw Ataio's form shift and ripple, and he became a wyvern as well. He fell into place beside her. _You didn't fly far._

_If we race, I wish it to be fair._

_I didn't want a_ race, he chided her, laughing gently. _Chase. Let me chase you._

_Why?_ she asked, troubled, remembering the hunts in the Mirror Zone.

_Don't you remember hunting? Don't you remember the thrill of the chase? You can't reclaim only part of your heritage, little one. Now go!_

Startled, Ine'che took off for the forest and the riverbank, flying over fields and towns full of sleepers. No one really noticed her shadow falling over the land. No one really looked up in any of these places. They all looked down, down, down, at their feet or the lands or where they thought they were going. No one looked up, no one saw the splendor in the skies.

It must have been hours, flying over the lands that made up the OZ. Ataio caught her easily, his claws not even breaking through her thick skin. _I found you,_ he said, then released her wings. Ine'che tilted her wings and landed in the middle of a field somewhere far to the north of Central City. Ataio landed in front of her, head raised and eyes glittering with triumph. _Oh, yes, child. It was a glorious flight._

It only occurred to Ine'che that flying figured heavily in wyvern courtship rituals. She stepped back, breath catching in her chest abruptly. She had a mate once, she had loved once, and the pain of it still lanced her heart. To play with her like this...

Ataio caught her easily and pushed her against the ground. Her wings were useless. Ine'che gnashed her teeth at him, struggling, not even aware of what she might have said to him as she sobbed. Without thinking about it, she changed to human form, scales falling away to create human skin. Ataio followed her change, and pinned her to the ground, his fingers entwined through hers. "Ine'che," he murmured, his human skin dark against hers. He was a creature of shadows and darkness, and it carried through in every form he took.

"It isn't right," she sobbed. "You can't play with creatures like this."

Ataio nudged her legs apart with his knees and met her gaze. "I'm not playing at anything."

Ine'che whimpered softly, shaking her head. "It's been too long, too long..." she protested. "I can't. I can't do this."

Ataio pulled her up to a sitting position, watching her as she trembled and wrapped her arms around herself. "You are very alone, Ine'che," he began slowly. "Yet it hasn't been of comfort to you. The span of your life hasn't been one you've enjoyed." He rested a hand on her shoulders and saw her flinch at the contact. "Why do you wear your pain so closely? Why do you hide behind it, when there is much to live for, still?"

"I'm a coward," she whispered, not meeting his gaze. "I'm the last because I'm a coward."

"A true coward would have killed herself before now. Try again."

Ine'che began to cry softly. "I still miss him. After all this time, I still miss him."

Ataio cupped her face in his hands and made her look up at him. "This happens." He brushed away her tears gently. "My mate had been mortal as these humans are mortal. She was very short lived, and I had but a single child by her. This happens."

Ine'che sniffled. "Do you think on her still? Do you mourn her?"

"And my daughter and granddaughter."

She wrapped a hand around Ataio's and pulled it from her face. "I don't know how to let go."

"I will never ask you to." He brushed his lips gently across hers. "Keep his memory. Hold it precious, still. I would never ask you to give that up."

Hesitantly, Ine'che kissed Ataio back. "Have you... After your mate, have you..."

"I've mated, but haven't taken a mate," Ataio returned, his distinction clear. "What this would be depends on you."

She shivered under his intense scrutiny. "I don't know."

"We are old things," Ataio murmured, sliding a hand down the length of her arm and guiding her onto her back. "There is no need to decide at this moment. This would be whatever you want it to be when you want it to be. And if you never decide, you never decide."

Trembling, Ine'che turned her head and exposed her neck to him, much in the way of wyverns even though she was still in human form. Ataio bent down, biting her neck gently. He held her hands down, much like wyverns did, and thrust deeply into her body. Ine'che made a pained noise, a low whine deep in her throat. He opened his mouth to release her neck and looked at her in shock. "But you had a mate before."

Ine'che whimpered as she held her eyes shut. "Yes."

"You did not join with him?"

"He could not," Ine'che whispered. "But I loved him still."

"This changes things," Ataio growled. Before she could ask him what he meant, Ataio grasped her head and tilted it back to him. He seized her mouth with his in an all-to-human kiss, his tongue sliding into her slack mouth. His other hand was at her breast, kneading it and rolling his thumb across her nipple. Ine'che made a soft noise of pleasure, a low mewling sound as she clung to his shoulders. Ataio worked at her flesh with his hands, moving his mouth to follow the trail his fingers set. He tasted this human skin, felt the tremors of her shivers on his tongue. His fingers spread her wide and stroked her, opening her body to be ready for his.

Wyverns didn't have the same physical characteristics as humans, so it wasn't that she had a hymen to break. But her inexperience meant that she didn't prepare herself during flight as she should have, and he had to ready her body for him. Flight was usually pleasurable, and chase during flight got the blood to singing. It should have been second nature to let her limbs loosen, to lose herself in sheer sensation rather than letting her body remain tightly bound. Ine'che did not know this; that meant that her mate could never outfly her. It meant she willingly bonded herself to someone inferior to her in skill, that he could never catch her or pin her and she kept that secret to protect him. That was a great love indeed.

She let out a wail of pleasure as he touched her, throwing her head back. She released his shoulders to lie back against the ground, limbs splayed. Now he put his teeth against her throat and pushed into her body. She was ready this time, and pulled him in closer as she gasped for breath. She could feel the outline of every tooth against her skin, the press of his hands against hers, the length of him buried inside her. She could _feel,_ which she never thought she would ever do. Ine'che let out another incoherent wail, arching up against him, pressing her neck harder against his teeth. She was close to her release, whimpering in pleasure and need and want, pushing against him to ask for more. Ataio moved faster and harder, pushing deeper inside of her, nipping at her neck a little more roughly. It was enough, and Ine'che came with a sharp cry, startling the sleeping birds in the trees at the edge of the field.

Ataio pushed harder against her, feeling her body clamp down around his. He grit his teeth through the sensation as it built up within him and grunted when he found his own release.

He let go of her hands with some difficulty, letting his breathing slow. She looked up at him with luminous eyes, and for a moment he was reminded of Titania's mother, dead far longer than she had ever been alive.

Ine'che pressed a soft kiss against Ataio's lips quickly, as if she thought he would protest it, and pulled away from him. He caught her wrist in his and pulled her close, feeling oddly protective of her. "Ataio?"

"Maybe you'll fly with me again sometime."

She heard the question he didn't ask, and the vulnerable feeling in her chest dissolved. "Yes. I think I will."

They both smiled at each other, then shifted to wyvern form to fly back to the palace.

***

The skies above Green Harbor were thick with shadows and darkness. It was almost as if the suns had forgotten how to shine, as if the Sun Seeder had succeeded in blocking out the sky. The people worried, afraid for what Lord Siba was bringing to the land. There was a blockade to all ports, and their allies were also being blockaded. Siba's navy patrolled their harbors, but they were unable to go far from home.

When the inhuman screams started, the people barred their doors and refused to go outside. The screaming could be heard for miles, and it carried far from the harbors.

The shadows were thickest just outside of the port cities. Siba's navy had been one of his assets, and he had been sure that he could launch an attack to any part of the royalist lands.

But his boxes full of poison soon decimated his navy. Whoever didn't die outright started to mutate. Their mouths were full of jagged teeth, their hands like hooked claws. They stooped over, hair thin and straggly, eyes yellowed and rheumy. Their minds were twisted into dark caricatures of their former selves. The creatures born of the Sorceress's poisons were ravenous things, bent on devouring. They consumed the flesh of their fallen comrades, the misshapen corpses not even registering as something that had once been human. The creatures screamed with the pain of the transformation, but now screamed in frustration. The food was gone, there was nothing left to eat.

It was a small mercy that they no longer remembered how to steer the ships.

Lord Siba woke at the sound of the inhuman screaming from the harbor of his capital city. He dressed hurriedly and summoned his court into session. He wanted his magician, his advisors and his commanders. One of them had to know what the source of that sound was. One of them had to know why the shadows were so thick and ominous, blotting out the sun. One of them had to know how to stop it.

He looked out of the window across the bay. Green Harbor was his, and Ruby Gulch and Caronet were his in all but name. The darkness over the water seemed to be something terrible, something that made his insides run cold and his heart shrivel in his chest. It was a primal kind of fear, an irrational fear.

_Something in the dark has teeth,_ he thought, then shook his head to clear it. A nightmare, that was all. He was simply remembering something out of a nightmare.

The screaming continued in waves. Just when Siba thought it would be quiet enough to fall asleep again, the screaming began again. Not one council member had any idea why there were screams across the harbor. Not one man could venture a guess regarding the nature of the shadows or how they could get the sun shining over Green Harbor again. They did know that Ruby Gulch and Caronet were also starting to fall under these same ominously dark skies, that they were just as troubled. But since they weren't lands known for farming, they weren't in as dire straits as Green Harbor would be if this continued. If the crops died, they would have to ration food. The people would starve, and it was harder to corral starving people against an otherwise benign royalty.

_Something in the dark has teeth,_ he thought, looking out of his bedroom window after his impromptu meeting. He couldn't sleep with the eerie screaming, the dread feeling that this was his fault somehow, that this was only what he deserved.

But the feeling slid off of his skin, and he glared at the darkness. He wanted to scream right back, to tell the cacophony of voice that they had to stop _now,_ that this was _his_ land and his harbor. The screamers had no right to be there.

He wondered why his navy didn't quiet the voices, why the army scouting parties hadn't returned from investigating.

In the midst of all this, he could only pray that the voices didn't come any closer. He didn't want to meet their owners, didn't want to meet the creatures that created this noise. His skin was already crawling. Deep down, he had a feeling he would never survive the encounter, that these creatures wouldn't care about his titles or pretensions.

He didn't matter. That was the most terrifying piece of knowledge.

***  
***


	11. Creating Peerage

It would have been rude for Azkadellia to place locking spells or a barrier ward on the door to the suite that Lissa offered them. Callan and Della resumed their former watch detail, and she had to smile at the grumbling they did. "Somehow we always wind up protecting you from whatever it is you're involved with," Callan groused, a twinkle in his eye belying his tone. "Why do you get into so much trouble again?"

"This wasn't my fault," Azkadellia protested, laughing.

Della kicked off his boots and started undressing to sleep. "No, not exactly. But it was one of those duties you couldn't quite avoid. Seems to be a theme."

"Definitely is a theme," Callan replied with a sigh. "You two sleep, then. I'll have my turn with you soon enough, Delia."

Azkadellia pressed a kiss against his lips and proceeded to the bedroom of the suite. She was tired, more than she thought she would be. She didn't know how Callan could stay awake, but knew that he would. He and Della took this sort of thing in stride, and almost seemed to take comfort from a routine like shift changes.

Della enjoyed undressing her, in spreading her legs wide and kneeling between them as she sat at the edge of the bed. He held her hips in his hands, thumbs parting her folds so he could devour her. She held onto his shoulders, gasping for breath and trying to keep quiet. This was for his comfort, to know that she was still there and still his. Azkadellia didn't think that either man thought of her as a possession, but it was still that lingering fear they couldn't do anything to truly help her. They were tin men through and through, and could never be content without something to _do,_ someone to save, some mission to complete. They were driven; some part of her would forever be afraid that she would someday not be worthy of their attention. It was an irrational fear, since they loved her as completely as their duty, but it was likely a fear that would still be with her for years to come.

Callan lounged on one of the couches at first, counting the tiles in the ceiling and the number of floorboards across the floor. He knew the measurements of the room, where the good hiding spots for all three of them would be if they had need of it. He had his knives and his guns and his fists, but there was magic in this place. He could still feel Azkadellia's spellwork woven into his very being, but that didn't mean he was capable of any magic himself. He knew Della was just as uncomfortable with this, that some threats Azkadellia would have to take care of herself. She was in some ways still very fragile, and he wanted to simply wrap her up in blankets and hide her away from the rest of the Zones. They'd had their turn beating at her psyche, and it really wasn't fair to make her go through it again. At the same time, he knew there was no choice, no other person that would be able to complete this task for DG. And wrapping her up to hide her wouldn't necessarily protect her. It could just as easily make her vulnerable to traps or whatever other dangers the Zones had for her.

It didn't mean he had to like it.

He noticed the air in the sitting room getting thicker, almost like smoke. He leapt to his feet, hands at his sides but ready to move to an appropriate weapon if need be. He wasn't willing to wake Della or Azkadellia just yet.

The smoke coalesced into Lissa. She smiled at Callan, and it could hardly be called a friendly smile. "Wary of us, then?"

"It's not that I don't trust you," he hedged, body still loose and ready to move. "But we're strangers here, and it's best to be alert."

Her smile was a stretching of lips that otherwise didn't seem all too inviting. "You protect her with your life?" She watched him nod grimly, her entire body still. "What if I thought this was an insult to my hospitality?"

"An insult would be to ward the door," Callan replied, parroting Azkadellia's earlier statement. "My sitting out here could hardly be insulting."

Lissa laughed, a sound like broken glass that grated on his nerves. "You have a point, though we both know you were standing guard over your Princess." She sniffed the air delicately. "She is still here. I will speak with her."

"I don't think..."

"I did not ask," Lissa replied. Though her voice was soft, it still had a sharp edge to it that set the hairs on the back of Callan's neck standing on edge.

He grit his teeth as he nodded. "Wait here and I'll wake her."

But Lissa followed him to the bedroom, her lips stretched into a smile at the sight of Azkadellia and Della in bed together. They were tangled in the sheets, Della lying half on top of her as if he could protect her even in his sleep. "Interesting."

Callan's lips were pressed into a thin line as he shook Azkadellia's shoulder to wake her. "Delia? Wake up. Lissa's here..."

Azkadellia mumbled something and tried to sit up. Della rolled off of her without much complaint and she sat up, blinking as she woke up. Once she realized they weren't alone, she dragged the sheet up to cover her breasts. "Benji? What's going on?"

"She wanted to talk," he replied, disapproval evident in his tone.

Lissa smiled at them when Azkadellia turned her gaze to the nightwalker. "I had not realized you were part of a triad," Lissa said, clasping her hands loosely together in front of her. "It explains the scents tangling the three of you. That's not common by human standards." Azkadellia shook her head at the unspoken question in the statement. "Well, I need to speak with you, Lady Delia. You can bring your guards if you wish. Lovers can be... difficult about letting their loved ones go on alone at times, can they not?"

If this was where Azkadellia was supposed to be goaded into protesting she could go alone, Lissa was about to be disappointed. "Thank you. Any particular dress code I should know about?" she replied with a sweet smile.

Lissa's expression didn't change and her demeanor didn't seem to shift. "You seem to have prompted a gathering of all leaders in the Low Realms. Many don't seem to stand on ceremony, but there are some that do."

Azkadellia nodded. "Thank you, Lissa. We'll be ready shortly."

She fell backward onto the bed as Callan escorted Lissa out of the suite. She blew out a breath and gave Della a shove to wake him up. This would probably be painful for the two tin men, but she wasn't about to leave them behind.

It didn't take them long to get dressed and meet Lissa outside of the guest suite. Azkadellia ignored the searching looks Lissa seemed to give them. She knew she didn't look like she had been dead asleep fifteen minutes before. She knew how to seem wide awake and perfectly presentable, just as the tin men did. She held the staff with a tight grip as a measure of comfort more than balance. Whatever the Low Realms had in mind worried her, even if she couldn't show it. What if they didn't believe her? What if they did and wanted to kill them anyway? What if this couldn't be done?

They were brought to a large private room inside the inn. Azkadellia recognized Mattoon with a few other Wheelers and Hani the troll from the Mist Parish. Lissa had them sit off to the side, and Azkadellia could feel the shadows thick around her. One of them solidified into Tilith, one of the four Shadow Brigade generals that had crossed back to the Mirror Zone with her. As the introductions were being made, General Salan'ri drifted beneath the door and solidified as well. The others in the room were the Ventra commander of the Untrodden Sands, Goma Tari of the Tari Clan of the Barbed Torrent, three golems from the Studded Steeps and Alec Page, leader of the Thieves' Guild in the Dead Wastes. It turned out that Hani and Salan'ri had both spoken with the Tari Clan and the golems. Tilith had gone straight to the Thieves' Guild. Generals Goren and Hanja were still elsewhere in the Mirror Zone and hadn't responded to the summons Salan'ri had sent regarding the meeting. They were still presumed alive.

Azkadellia had been introduced as both Princess Azkadellia of the Outer Zone and Lady Delia of the Silver Enclave. Apparently she was to carry both names in this Zone. Callan and Della were introduced as her honor guard, and Lissa didn't even seem sarcastic about the roles.

Looking back afterward, the tense posturing might have gone on for hours. None of the assembled players actually trusted one another, and they trusted Azkadellia even less. Some were still not entirely convinced that she wasn't a spy for Lurlaine. Temper growing short, she stood abruptly during a tirade between the Thieves' Guild and the Tari Clan. She placed her ebony walking stick directly in front of her so that the emerald was clearly visible. It shone with a faint green light, only a fraction of its power in use.

"I understand these are dark times and that normally some of you would never be allies. If I had the luxury of time, I would try to help broker some kind of arrangement. As it is, I don't have that kind of time. If you can't get along, I won't ask you to work together for this." Azkadellia spoke with a brisk tone of voice, one she had often used as the Sorceress to cut out the petty wrangling for attention in the Longcoat ranks. "The bottom line is, Lurlaine must be deposed. I don't care how it happens as long as it does and she has _no hope_ ever returning to the throne." She paused to let that sink in. "If the promise of territory or trade isn't worth the breath I have to speak it, I've made an offer for emeralds like this one."

Everyone was at attention now. "I might be persuaded to help," Page replied with a slow smile, eying the emerald at the end of Azkadellia's walking stick. "For a price."

"Of course. I'll open the bidding now."

"What?" he asked, startled. He had been lounging in his chair, feet up on a side table. His boots hit the floor with a clang. "I can ask for whatever I want?"

Azkadellia gave him a tight smile that reminded Della all too much of the Sorceress. "You can ask. It doesn't mean I'll pay it." She sat back down as if utterly confident that things would work out in her favor, the staff clasped in her hand at her side.

Lissa looked on, a smirk clearly etched onto her features. _Bravo,_ she thought, slipping into the Old Speech for the comment.

To her utter surprise, Azkadellia looked her directly in the eye. _Thank you. You're welcome to enter a bid for your assistance as well._

Lissa made a choking noise that didn't draw much attention, but Azkadellia heard it. She didn't allow herself to relax until the meeting was done. While she had bartered away a fortune in emeralds to the different leaders of the Low Realms, she had her army bought and paid for. DG might have a heart attack at the thought of sending so many emeralds to the Mirror Zone, but wars were expensive.

Lissa waited until the others had left the meeting room. "You are... impressive," she murmured, settling on that word.

"In what way?" Azkadellia asked, curious.

There was no mockery in the tone, which Lissa appreciated. She had underestimated this witch, and she didn't do that often. The last time she had underestimated someone, she had nearly died and had to rely on Hani for help. While Hani was at least honorable, it was a position she didn't enjoy being in. "You are many things at once," Lissa murmured. "And quite the commanding presence. You possibly didn't need our help in this."

Azkadellia could feel the disdain in the two sleeping Practitioners within her. "Lurlaine is strongly protected. We'll need all the help we can get."

"You discount your own magic, then?" Lissa asked, voice arch. It seemed almost like weakness, and she was too used to exploiting others' pain.

"I won't underestimate her," Azkadellia corrected gently. "I'd rather overwhelm her with sheer numbers and annihilate her resistance if I can." It had worked in the OZ with the Longcoats. While Lurlaine was much more vicious than her mother, it was a sound philosophy.

"You still wish to have nightwalkers, then? Even if others might not be so sure?"

"You won't be partnered with them. Hani seems to hold you in high regard."

"It's a long story," Lissa said tightly. "We would be at a disadvantage in the daylight."

Azkadellia seemed to falter there. "Yes. I... There was a machine in the OZ that could make perpetual night," she began in a weak tone, eyes sliding away from Lissa's. Oh, there was a story there, and Lissa was tempted to demand it of her.

But Callan had slid up close to them, and laid a hand on Azkadellia's arm. Lissa hadn't realized he was that close, she was that focused on Azkadellia's discomfort. "There's probably another way than the Sun Seeder," Callan said, voice soft.

"All of those magic talents inside," Della added.

Lissa thought for a moment that there was some sort of underlying meaning in their words, some collective history she hadn't been privy to. The wording was odd, but not one she could discern any meaning to. Of course Azkadellia would have magic talents inside of her. She was a witch. She was a Practitioner, no less.

But Azkadellia smiled after a moment, as an idea dawned. "Yes. Yes, I can do that. Cloud cover, as if it would rain. Only, it won't rain until I tell it to, and it will block the sun so that all of the nightwalkers that would like to fight can do so." Azkadellia turned her gaze to Lissa, eyes bright and determined. "I will cover the entire sky from here to the Dawn Sanctuary."

"Impressive," Lissa murmured. Just as Azkadellia had to trust that Lissa wouldn't consume them all whole, she would have to trust that Azkadellia wouldn't let her people burn in the sun once this attack was over. "You can do this?"

Azkadellia's smile was more like Lissa's than Lissa wanted to admit. "I can. Just tell me when to start it."

"As soon as your emeralds arrive."

"Tomorrow, then," Azkadellia replied with a nod. "I should have everything set up."

"Ozma can't rule, you know," Lissa told Azkadellia in a soft tone. "Don't waste your emeralds for a revolution that will simply fail because she can't lead."

"She can be made to remember, I'm sure," Azkadellia said with more confidence than she felt. The locket DG had given her was a heavy weight against her breastbone, freezing cold against her skin. "As soon as Lurlaine returns all the magic and memories that she had stolen. Ozma is the rightful ruler of the Sanctuary."

Lissa wanted to laugh in the face of Azkadellia's idealism. "Perhaps, but that doesn't mean she has the skill to keep her country. If even Lurlaine couldn't take the Low Realms, you can't hope to think that Ozma can."

"Lurlaine is a conqueror and eater of souls," Azkadellia replied flatly. "Ozma would work with you as an equal."

Now Lissa did laugh. "Oh, you're a darling child. If I had heard this earlier, I would have offered my services for nothing."

"You can still do that," Azkadellia replied with a wry smile.

"Oh, no, I'll take my promised emeralds. Idealism won't feed a country or inspire respect for treaties." Azkadellia nodded and turned to leave. Lissa caught her wrist. "You make me curious, Lady Delia. The contradictions there, the working triad you have... Such things are not common in your kind, and simply unheard of in mine."

"Perhaps when this is over, we can talk of such things," Azkadellia replied.

Lissa looked at Azkadellia's open expression and nodded, letting go of her. "As peerage."

"As peerage. That's a rarity, from what I understand. There are few that's risen to your rank."

She accepted the flattery as her due. "Or yours. You mediate amongst the Low Realm like they are simply wayward children. You have the capacity for rule."

The flattery did nothing but turn Azkadellia's complexion to ash. She nodded and left the room quickly, her tin men behind her. Lissa frowned, but let them leave. This war against Lurlaine had not even begun. There was time enough to discuss things.

***

DG sighed at Azkadellia but agreed. "Do you need to make a travel storm? Or should I try to weave a portal to you?"

Azkadellia sighed as well. "I at least got them to less than half of their original bids, Deeg. But there are seven different groups I had to deal with, so it was a bit much, still. Try weaving the portal to me, if you can. A travel storm might be too disruptive around here."

DG nodded and tried to smile at Azkadellia through the communicating mirrors. "Well, I get to see if I got the hang of this magic thing. Ine'che and Ataio have been giving me lessons for _hours_ every day."

Azkadellia laughed at the disgruntled tone of voice, just as DG had hoped she would. "Well, it's for a good cause. You need your magic to reawaken."

"They've been teaching me really good things, too. I don't think I'll ever be able to shift my shape around, but I've got a knack for recognizing spells and their weavings. So conjuring, healing and transfiguration is all really easy for me. The elemental magic is a lot harder for me."

Curling up on the bed, Azkadellia smiled. "Certain things are easier than others. Maybe it has to do with your art. Creating was always easy for you."

"Oh, I'm sure if you tried, you'd be just as good," DG replied in a breezy tone. "I'm hoping this thing here will be over soon. Or at least stable enough that I can come across and see how I can help over there."

"Take care of the OZ," Azkadellia told her sister fondly. "That's your first priority. I'll get this war started. She won't get away with it."

"Good," DG replied with a smile. "Let me get down to that storeroom, and I'll open a portal to where you are. So I'll see you soon."

"Love you," Azkadellia murmured, ending the connection. She closed the mirror and set it down on the bedside table. She drew the heavy locket from around her neck and looked at it. It was a simple gold oval locket. DG hadn't mentioned much about it, though it looked like there was an inscribed O around its outer edge. The filigree diagonal line almost looked like a Z.

Callan entered the bedroom. "We figured it was Della's shift," he said, pointing at the closed door behind him. "I don't know how much sleeping we'll be able to get, though. You got through to your sister?"

Azkadellia nodded as he came to sit on the bed beside her. "She should be opening a portal in a few minutes."

He pressed a kiss against her shoulder. "As much as I'd love to get you screaming, it probably wouldn't be nice for your sister to see that." He smiled as Azkadellia giggled. She was so serious lately. She had good reason to be, but he wanted to see her laughing and smiling, too. She carried too much on her shoulders, and not all of the weight could be distributed.

Azkadellia leaned into his embrace and smiled as she rested her head on his shoulder. "Probably not. Do you think anyone here would think less of us for this?"

"For what? Bartering in emeralds you don't actually own?" he teased, shifting position so that he could nuzzle her neck. "Sounds like the Thieves Guild would applaud you."

She laughed and twisted in his arms as his lips tickled the skin of her neck. "Well, what about the others, then? I lied, didn't I?"

"Not really. You did mention the possibility to your sister. This was more expensive overall," he murmured, sliding his hand beneath the bodice of her dress, "but it got the job done faster. I think they would've argued the topic to death otherwise."

Azkadellia gasped and arched into his touch. "But Deeg..."

"Incentive to finish up early?" Callan replied with a laugh, nipping at her earlobe. He deftly disentangled himself as the air in front of them shimmered a bit. He'd never seen a portal like this before, and found it to be different from Azkadellia's bubble or travel storms. It looked like a flat, shimmering oval in front of them, but he could clearly make out a large storeroom in the Central City palace in the center of the oval. "Wow."

"She's definitely improved her magic skill," Azkadellia murmured, reaching out and nearly touching the portal. She could feel the magic in it, the way the spell threads wove together to neatly puncture a hole between the borders of the Zones. "This is very focused."

DG stuck her head through the portal, grinning at them. "I know! Isn't it awesome?! I _made_ this, and it _works!"_ She pushed her way through the portal and grasped Azkadellia in a bear hug. "Definitely easier than travel storm. C'mon. We'll make up the bribe bags and we'll get this show on the road."

The three of them didn't take long in assembling the emeralds needed to pay the different Low Realms groups. DG had never heard of them, and thought it fascinating that the Low Realms were mere smudges at the bottom of the Mirror Zone map. It was as if the Low Reams were the crumbling edge of the Zone, and that was why Lurlaine had never saw fit to try to enforce her will upon those lands. The Dawn Sanctuary was at the very center of the Mirror Zone, its magic anchoring that Zone into reality. The surrounding lands shifted every so often but were still under her dominion.

DG gave Azkadellia another tight hug and then passed back through the portal into the storeroom full of emeralds and emerald-encrusted weapons. "We'll win this," she said earnestly. She hadn't wanted to listen to Azkadellia's warnings regarding Ozma. _She just needs time to learn how to do it, like I do. She'll get it,_ DG had replied. Callan and Azkadellia merely looked at each other but didn't reply. DG wanted to believe that Ozma could take her rightful place on the throne of the Dawn Sanctuary and rule Faerie. She wanted to believe that everyone could simply pick back up and begin again, even if everyone in the Mirror Zone seemed to think otherwise. DG thought perhaps she could change the universe by sheer force of will.

Perhaps she could. Azkadellia wasn't confident about that, however.

Once the portal closed, Callan pulled Azkadellia into his embrace. Her dress came off easily, and he kissed her fiercely. She almost seemed to deflate after the meeting with DG, as if she crashed after such a concentrated dose of optimism. "I love you," he whispered against her mouth, his hands coming to rest on her hips. He pulled her close, almost possessively, not giving her a chance to reply. "I love you."

She wound her fingers through his hair and pressed herself even closer, as if she could share his very skin. "I love you, too, Benji."

He tipped her backward, so that she fell onto the bed, dark hair spilling down around her head in a halo. Callan moved above her slowly and methodically, deliberately making her gasp and moan and reach for him before backing off. Once her breathing evened out and she let out a frustrated whining noise, he moved again. He pushed inside of her after the third time he teased her this way, hearing her sigh of pleasure.

If war was starting soon, he had to take every moment with her as if it was their last. He had almost lost her once, and he didn't know how he could tolerate possibly losing her again. He could only hope that they were good enough to stop it.

***  
***


	12. Difficult Truths

_The blockade proceeds apace, my Queen,_ General Minge reported with a bow. _Our forces are keeping the Others from reaching landfall, and they are also effectively keeping any allies from reaching Green Harbor with supplies by sea. We also patrol the borders between the different counties, and trade routes have dried up._

DG wanted to be horrified by what Glitch had inadvertently ordered Ronsard to do, but she couldn't bring herself to do it. Siba was going to torture innocent farmers, creating ravenous monsters out of them. It seemed only natural that his army of mercenaries would suffer the fate they would have so callously meted out to innocents.

Still, it bothered her that it didn't horrify her. Was this what it meant to be in charge? Was this what ruling was all about? Seeing people as mere numbers and names and judging who were acceptable losses while she remained safe?

_Thank you,_ DG told Minge with a nod. _Please extend these thanks to your forces, and to continue the blockade. Do you have need of any further supplies?_

Minge laughed heartily. _As shadows, we need none. That was worked into our very essence by the spellwork laid upon us all those years ago. What we need, we will take from your enemy. It is only right to do so, and not tax your supplies further. Your people need them._

DG tried not to think of the hapless farmers caught in Green Harbor, or the merchants and miners in Ruby Gulch and Caronet. The people hadn't asked for this war, hadn't asked for a blockade to stop up all the trade routes and starve them out.

But she nodded and smiled at Minge, and let him return to Green Harbor. Cain and Tasi would be coming in to report soon. She was in her official receiving suite, collecting information and directing others where to go on a map. She was in no danger, but also had no idea what was happening in the rest of the Zone.

Was she losing touch? Or just second guessing herself because she was nervous?

She looked up when Cain and Tasi entered her sitting room. She liked the way Cain looked in his General's uniform, even if he had grumbled about "useless frippery" at the time. Her parents had said that he at least looked like someone who would have made a proper proposal, even if the public was unaware of it. DG was glad that they were not pressing that point; she had spent her entire morning avoiding an argument with her mother over colors for a wedding scheme.

"Please say you have good news," she said with a half smile.

"If by good news you mean no one died, I have plenty of good news for you," Cain replied.

Tasi frowned at him, lips compressed into a thin line. "My Queen, the city holds firm. There are spies, however. How shall we proceed?"

"Spies?" DG echoed dumbly. "Who? How do you know?"

Cain and Tasi exchanged glances. Tasi nodded at Cain, indicating that he should broach this topic. "Deeg, some of the palace guard are being implicated in this. You had set up the rotation schedule for the city gates." DG nodded, indicating that she remembered doing the task. "There have been two of the palace guard in particular that we have concerns about. They follow their directions to the letter, but what they report is different from what happens."

DG felt her blood run cold. She had thought perhaps Tasi was sending Shadow Brigade members to double the ranks of guards. She hadn't thought they were second guessing and spying on other members of her team. "How is it different?"

Cain could tell that DG was uncomfortable with this. She liked to think the best of people, liked to think that she could effect reasonable changes. It had to be awful to consider that some of her allies were actually trying to harm her cause.

"There have been people trying to cross the gates under cover of night. Some of them are farmers or shopkeepers that escaped the counties before the blockade went into effect. Some of them are mercenaries that were hired and sent out. Some we think are privateers seeking an opportunity to make a profit. The palace guards at the gate entrances usually catch them and send them into detainment so that the tin men can question them and figure out what to do next." Cain paused, taking in her earnest expression. "With the two guards we're concerned about, they've let the farmers and shopkeepers be put into detainment for processing. The mercenaries and privateers are let through. There's not even a bribe being offered."

DG caught the skirt of her dress in her hands and had to make an effort to unclench the fabric. "And they're well liked, aren't they? Otherwise you'd already be dealing with them without coming to me first."

"Prominent enough to be an issue," Cain affirmed, nodding. "They were guards since before you were even born, so they command a lot of respect. The other guards will know they've gone missing from the rotations."

"Unless I come up with a good enough excuse for it," DG murmured, looking over them.

"So how do we proceed?" Tasi prompted when the other two fell silent.

"Take them off the gates," DG said slowly. "I can't trust them around any of my family or any strategic locations. They can train the new wave of guards I'm about to recruit for."

Tasi nodded, smiling grimly. "That is necessary, and keeps them closely guarded themselves."

Cain reached out and grasped DG's hand in his. "See? You have a solution."

"We need to not only watch them, though, but we need to find out more about them. If they're really doing this, we need to know why they've turned against our family."

Cain nodded. "We'll have to use some of Tasi's people. Our own might be biased based on the respect for these two."

DG looked at Tasi, nodding. "Do it. We need to be sure of everyone we're working with right now. I can't afford to be thinking that everything's okay and have bombs go off again."

"Want me to stay with you?" Cain asked gently.

DG shook her head. "I have a lesson with Ine'che and Ataio soon. Maybe I'll get them to start it early and take my mind off of this."

"Sorry, Deeg," Cain murmured.

"Not your fault," she replied, leaning in for a kiss. She kept her eyes closed as they kissed, and for a fraction longer. She could almost feel the imprint of his lips over hers still lingering if she kept her eyes closed. But she opened them after a moment, and stood back up to indicate that they could leave. "I'll see you later, Wyatt." She nodded at Tasi. "Thank you for your discretion with this, Tasi."

"But of course, my Queen. We are here to protect you in all of your endeavors."

DG waited until after they left her sitting room. She wanted to hit something. Or run. If only she had her motorcycle, or could disappear somewhere for a while. But after her last attempt to run away and disappear, she didn't dare try something like that again. It would be a disaster if she did that and it backfired in her face again.

Even worse, Ine'che was nowhere to be found, and Midnight said that Ataio wanted to be alone all day. It looked like her magic lesson was canceled for the day.

Disgruntled, DG went off in search of the head of the palace guard. It was high time she learned some self defense. That ought to burn off some of her frustration.

For her part, Ine'che had remembered the lesson. But Ataio had found her walking in the castle corridors early that morning and led her into a hidden one he had found. Once there, he pushed her up against the wall and his mouth had descended over hers. Since their flight, Ataio had approached her daily. Ine'che hadn't been entirely sure why he would want to, but it was a new experience for her. She was _wanted,_ and he had such joy in making love to her in the way of humans. Ine'che kissed him back, arms looping around his shoulders. She was learning how he liked to be touched, what made him gasp or sigh in pleasure. She didn't want to ask when he would tire of her, when he would be bored enough to return things to the way that they used to be. She wanted the illusion for the moment that the affair could be long term.

Ataio licked her neck, sending shivers through her, and his hands palmed her breasts through the dress she wore. Ine'che ran her nails along his shoulders, hearing his breath catch. He pressed his teeth against her pulse point, and she tilted her head slightly.

"This is the time," he murmured against the skin of her neck. Before she could ask him what he meant, he lifted the skirts to her dress. Ataio dropped his trousers and lifted her so that she needed to wrap her legs around his waist to keep her balance.

"What do you mean?" she gasped as he pushed into her waiting body. She grasped hold of his arms and turned her head as he kissed his way up her neck. She tightened her legs around his waist, drawing him deeper inside of her. She couldn't help but making mewling sounds of pleasure as he drove into her. Ine'che curled around his body as best as she could, clinging to him for balance, as if the entire world was shifting around her. She hadn't known how this could feel in human form before Ataio, and he made every fiber of her being shatter with his touch. Her nails dug into his shoulders as she came, clenching down even tighter around him.

Ataio kissed her mouth, tongue sliding in to stroke hers. He didn't answer her question until after he had spilled into her, after he leaned against her panting. "Isn't it phase?"

Ine'che stilled, then looked at him in dawning horror. "What?"

"Now you will never be alone," he murmured.

Ine'che thought her heart stopped in her chest. Had she even heard him correctly?

Ataio slid from her limp grasp and settled her back onto her feet. He rearranged their clothing, then tucked her hair back into place as if nothing had happened. Ine'che stood there dumbly, staring at him with her mouth still parted in horrible surprise. He took one of her hands in his, almost as if in pity for her shock. "You'll have to make a decision regarding which form you'll take, of course."

"I... I have to go," Ine'che stammered, pulling her hand away. She had thought this was a nice diversion, something to occupy her time and keep her from feeling lonely. Ataio was old, a Belen Tasilth, a creature from which magic flowed. She was just a wyvern, even if she had been a princess among her kind. She had assumed that he would grow bored with her, that he would simply stop paying attention and she would be alone again.

If he was right, and she had no reason to think he would lie to her about this, then she was going to be a mother. She was a shapeshifting wyvern that had never had a completed phase, never clutched an egg, never given birth in human form. She would have to decide what form to take for the duration of the event, and she would have to decide soon. Shifting forms while still with child could destroy it.

Ine'che stumbled toward DG's suite. She wasn't really aware of her surroundings, wasn't aware of what Ataio looked like when she left. She felt numb, as if this couldn't possibly be real. It was too soon to feel the presence of a child, but Ataio was made of pure magic. He would know if something had happened. He wouldn't lie to her about this, just as he hadn't lied about his interest in their flight. He was honest about his boredom and his curiosity regarding mortals. Though Ine'che was an old, old creature by human standards, she was still a child compared to Ataio. He would exist as long as magic did, long after Ine'che's bones dissolved into magic dust.

DG wasn't in her suite, and Ine'che didn't know where else to turn. She was an outsider in these lands, and she only vaguely knew DG's other friends. Her chest felt tight and it almost seemed as though she wasn't in complete control of her own body anymore.

Wyverns clutched eggs and raised young in a large community, taking to the sky and the hunt and the flight as soon as the musculature matured. Then when the wyvern child was physically mature, it could be taught to shift. It only took about eight human annuals for that, but there was no community to raise a wyvern in. Ine'che was alone, and she couldn't count on Ataio to shift into a wyvern for long. This place held human mortals, and she could always remain in this form. She would then grow large with a child in the human way, and would have to birth one in the human way, and care for it in the human way. She would have to wait until the child was older to even begin to explain shapeshifting, to even begin to teach it about her people.

The shadows shifted, and Ataio stepped out of them. Ine'che looked at him helplessly, not sure if she should say something to him.

He sat beside her and picked up one of DG's sketchbooks. She had drawn various palace figures, Ozma, Lurlaine and various people she had met in the Mirror Zone. Even Ine'che had been drawn, in both of her forms.

"I thought you would be pleased," he murmured, looking at the sketch of Ine'che's wyvern form.

"I don't know what I am," Ine'che replied numbly. She had long ago given up on the idea of an egg of her own. Her chosen mate was wonderful, but could never outfly her. He wouldn't have been able to sire offspring. She had known that, had accepted it before his involvement in the war that killed him along with the rest of her people. She had already mourned the idea.

Ataio pushed her hair away from her face. "Do you want this? Or is it a burden?"

She shut her eyes. "I don't know."

He pressed his lips against her temple, and she could feel his breath warm along her skin. "I will stay with you, no matter your decision."

"Why?"

His fingers curled around her wrist, the pads of his fingertips soft against her pulse point. It almost reminded her of claws against scales, and it was a comforting gesture. She softened against his touch, then met his gaze.

"It's better to be lost in these lands together, isn't it?" he asked quietly.

"Are we lost, then?" Ine'che asked, not sure what she was trying to ask.

He seemed to take her question seriously, then nodded slowly. "I don't want to rule, I don't want involvement in their affairs. I grow tired of the petty squabbles of the creatures of this world. But you are neither of these things, and that's worth looking after."

Ine'che wasn't sure if it was fair to say she was terrified of the thought of being a mother, of birthing or clutching some creature that wasn't completely wyvern, but something new and strange. It probably wasn't fair; his other child had been Titania, and she hadn't been some demented creature. But then, Lurlaine was also of his line, and that bore some thinking about as well. How could she ever hope to be enough?

She had only days to make her decision, or her immobility would make the decision for her.

He traced the inside of her wrist, the inside of her forearm. She shivered at the touch, at the reminder of other things he had done with her. Ine'che turned slowly to look at him, as if she was moving through a fog. Ataio kissed her softly, then rose. "I will leave you time to think, Ybred Ine'che. I will abide whatever decision you make."

It seemed wrong somehow, that someone so old would have to bow to her decision. But she nodded at him, absurdly grateful. "Thank you."

Ataio's lips quirked into a smile. "Don't thank me yet. It's not an easy task ahead of us, is it?"

Raise an egg alone or an infant among strangers. No, neither option was easy.

***

Oliver looked out across the farmlands he had been voted to help guide. He felt sick inside, even if he had nothing to do with the decision to set the mutated mercenaries on Green Harbor. He heard the dirt shifting behind him, and didn't even bother to turn around to meet Glitch's gaze. "You don't agree with what happened, do you?"

"No," Oliver replied, trying to catch the shifting shadows that were present at the edge of their territory. "Death shouldn't be some kind of easy answer."

"I don't think it is," Glitch replied easily. "But there was a lesson to learn for all of us there, don't you think?"

"What?" he asked, brows furrowing in confusion.

"Each side believes we're right and the other is wrong. It's troubling to think of the lengths we'd go to in order to prove ourselves right."

"Is this supposed to be a comforting thought?" Oliver asked incredulously.

"No." Glitch shrugged and looked at the farmer. "War is evil. It will always be evil. But it is sometimes a necessary evil, and we're trying to make sure it goes quickly."

"Shouldn't there be mercy involved?" Oliver asked, looking at the shifting shades of black.

"Would you show mercy on someone that destroyed your family?"

Oliver was disturbed by the question; he didn't know how to answer it, even though he knew what he _should_ say. He had been raised with the teachings of the land, did the weekly Meetings and Offerings. He was a devout man, and tried to be a good leader and father. But he knew the question that Glitch was asking, and he didn't know how to answer it.

Glitch didn't look pleased by Oliver's discomfort. "Terrible things happen sometimes," he said, looking out onto the shadows as well. Oliver caught sight of the zipper along his skull, knew it for the punishment it was. "The people are part of the royal family. DG really believes that, really came to learn that. I know she would want to be sure her family is safe." Glitch looked at Oliver and smiled. "I don't remember my family anymore. It got lost when they took out half of my brain, and it can't be found again. Do you think that's better or worse for this?"

Oliver couldn't answer that, either. He couldn't imagine a world where he was alone and without family, without the support and trials they offered.

Glitch sighed. "I don't know, either. But we do the best we can, don't we? And we all hope that it turns out okay in the end."

"You're philosophical for a headcase," Oliver commented, not sure what else to say.

"Am I?" Glitch smiled faintly. "I can't remember what I used to be very well. I was brilliant, I know. The main Advisor to the Queen. Now I'm lucky if she remembers me. I'm lucky if I even remember myself sometimes. I glitch, miss things."

Empathy hadn't been completely removed. Oliver wondered what the fate of Green Harbor would have been if it had been.

"Maybe it's better this way," Oliver told him, voice quiet. "You don't have to remember how it used to be, before everything went wrong."

"Oh, I remember that. Sometimes. Isn't that what we're fighting for?"

Oliver didn't have an answer for that question, either, and simply stared out into the dark.

***

Raw looked at the shifting shadows outside the farmlands. "The blockade is complete. We are not needed here in such numbers."

Ronsard stirred from the wall. "You see something, then?"

"Our friends have pain," Raw replied simply. "Sometimes it is best to be near them."

The troll solidified. "I could withdraw some of our men, send them back to the city, if that's where they need to be. The Queen said to follow your orders. And that of Glitch."

Raw startled, then realized he meant DG, not the Queen that Raw thought of by that title. "The city has guard enough. The west lies locked in shadow. There is not much else here at the moment but to wait for the end to come."

Ronsard nodded. "I've done my share of waiting, Viewer. It doesn't get easier with time."

Raw nodded unhappily. "I didn't think it did."

"Cheer up," Ronsard said with a toothy grin, reaching for one of the fruits in the basket on the table. He took a bite into a particularly juicy piece, letting it run down his chin. "This waiting is still better than being on a front line in active battle. This is tension, but this isn't tending to an open wound or hearing the screams of the dying." His gaze was dark and hollow. "Trust me on this, Viewer. Waiting is better than that."

"Your friends in the other place, then..."

"They will be on the front lines," Ronsard replied shortly. "They will bleed, they will die, they will scream. We will not."

Raw didn't think either location was a good place to be.

***  
***


	13. The Way To Begin

DG was surprised to see Ine'che in her room, bent over the sketchbook she had been working in before all of her morning meetings. "Oh. Hey. I'm sorry I bailed on our magic lesson," she said, coming into the room with an apologetic smile. She was dressed in black leggings and a purple shirt, which had scandalized the head of the palace guard. Still, he had understood her request and started to work on simple blocks and how to get out of grabs.

"I was... I am not focused enough at the moment to be of service as an educator," Ine'che replied. She was staring at the drawing of her wyvern form, fingertips brushing over the penciled shape of her wings. "I wish to discuss something."

DG plopped down beside her, eyes wide. "Sure. Go on."

"Ataio and I have..." Ine'che put the sketchbook down and looked at DG's earnest expression. "We have formed an alliance of sorts."

"Well, sure. You both teach me magic," DG said once she fell silent.

"It became more than that," Ine'che said faintly. "I thought it was a mere dalliance, but..."

DG grinned. "Oh! You mean the two of you are like me and Wyatt! That's great!"

Ine'che managed not to wince at her enthusiasm. "Perhaps. But you and your companion have not yet formally bonded. Or procreated."

"Well, yeah," DG replied with a snort. "I mean, there's stuff to do. Thank God for the potions they have here, or I'd probably have been knocked up long before now. I think my mother would've killed me for sure. She's barely tolerating us sleeping together right now as it is." She stopped rambling when she noticed Ine'che's pained expression. "But you're talking about you right now, aren't you?"

Ine'che nodded. "I had not considered my phase." At DG's blank look, Ine'che explained. "It's what we call the fertile period in my people. It happens twice an annual in a bonded pair."

"So you're expecting?" DG asked, getting excited. Ine'che nodded. "Can I be godmother?"

The wyvern looked at DG blankly. "What's that?"

"Oh. I don't even know if they do that here. But on the Other Side, where I grew up, friends of the parents would get to be godparents. They stand up in the church for the kid and help out in other ways. And we're friends, so I could totally be a godmother for your baby. And Wyatt could be the godfather, too."

Ine'che was startled by DG's guileless chatter, but supposed she was right. They were friends; Ine'che had come to DG to discuss this issue not just because there was no one else to discuss it with but because she honestly wanted DG's opinion. It had been such a long time since Ine'che had a friend that she had forgotten what it was like.

"It is not something in wyvern customs," Ine'che murmured. "But this is what I wanted to speak about. I must choose a form for the child. I can't change shape until it is fully formed, or risk harming it irreparably." DG gave her a sympathetic nod and grabbed her hand tightly in support. "I have no people if I choose wyvern form. There are plenty of humans, but..."

"We're not your people," DG said with a nod. "So you want to keep the baby, then? That seems to be a definite."

She hadn't thought of it that way. "I suppose I do."

"Well, you don't have to be the only wyvern, you know," DG told her in a matter-of-fact tone. "We can go to Milltown. They're robots and androids there. They built my parents on the Other Side. I was with them for fifteen years and never knew they weren't really my parents. So we can always build wyverns. And you can live on the Northern Ice Floe in those caverns. Or the Northern Island Palace. We don't want it, and it's just sitting there." DG smiled at her shock brightly. "So you can have a lot of wyverns helping you out. You could probably even make people you used to know to help."

Ine'che firmly shook her head. "No, I couldn't do that."

"Well, you can tell them what you'd need. So you can do that if you want. But if you want to do the human thing... You should talk to my mother. I haven't ever had a kid and I never even babysat before. I didn't really have a lot of close friends on the Other Side 'cause I always felt different and weird. I don't know what it would take to raise a baby, but it's probably a lot, right? So you can ask her what it's like. She had two kids, after all."

Ine'che smiled. "I hadn't thought of her as a resource."

"Yeah, well, neither do I sometimes," DG admitted sheepishly. "And this will give her something to do besides plan this elaborate wedding of doom! So go! Talk to her about baby stuff and see what you want to do. I'll help either way, even if I don't know what I'm doing. Okay?"

Ine'che stood, her smile more confident. "All right. Thank you."

DG leapt to her feet and impulsively wrapped Ine'che into a hug. "I know he's like a million years old or something, but do you want me to give Ataio a talking to? I mean, knocking up my friend is a big deal. He'd better stick around a while, you know?"

She laughed and shook her head. "He plans on doing just that. He's waiting for my decision."

"Oh." DG smiled. "So I won't harass him too much, then."

DG glanced down at her sketchbook after Ine'che left. Maybe she ought to visit Milltown anyway. Regardless of which form Ine'che chose to take, she might like a few wyvern friends to fly with. It wouldn't be the same as it was thousands of years ago in the Mirror Zone, but it had to be better than being lonely.

***

The emeralds were distributed to the proper leaders of the Low Realms in the Mirror Zone. All of the Shadow Brigade generals were accounted for, which further swelled their ranks. The army was impressive in scope, and the Shadow Brigade was willing to help move the more corporeal members of the army quickly. Azkadellia stepped outside of the inn and into the half light of the Glorious Pale. The mist swirled around her feet, and the perpetual twilight was almost familiar and comforting at this point.

I dreamt of this, Aliana whispered to Azkadellia. I dreamt of this half light, of this night. I had not known of this place, but this is what I wanted to create. The suns were too bright in that land, too much. I'm surprised water ever survived in your land.

Azkadellia turned her face up to the sky and spread her arms wide, the ebony staff held loosely in her right hand. She could feel the pull of water and ice, the droplets suspended in the air. _I am water in all forms,_ she thought, beginning to exert influence over it. Her hands seemed to glow with a soft white light, rather like how it used to be when she and DG held hands and combined their powers.

The clouds seemed to swirl above Azkadellia's head. Most of the assembled people had no idea what was happening, what she was trying to do. Some of Lissa's people murmured among themselves in Nightwalker and Old Speech. They didn't know what they were seeing, didn't know how this would help them reach the Dawn Sanctuary.

The clouds thickened and began to spread. The Iron Cauldron Inn was relatively close to the border of the Glorious Pale, making it an easy location to meet other Low Realm leaders. The border held thin mists and slowly brightening skies.

But now, the mists remained thin as the skies were slowly growing overcast and dark. The dark gray clouds looked like they threatened rain. It was difficult to see, but the clouds beginning at the Iron Cauldron's courtyard were beginning to extend beyond the border of the Glorious Pale and into the Mist Parish and Untrodden Sands.

Azkadellia thought of the map of the Mirror Zone, of the distance between the Low Realms and the Dawn Sanctuary. It didn't matter which lands were actually present there; they rotated and changed at irregular intervals. If Lurlaine had any whisper of what they were going to do, they would likely shift again. She couldn't anchor her clouds to any particular land mass, couldn't let them be broken up and expose the Nightwalkers to direct sunlight. It was more difficult to weave a bridge of clouds and impending rain and sleet between the two anchoring points of the Mirror Zone, but it would have to be done this way to keep them safe. Then all they would have to worry about was the ground shifting beneath their feet.

She didn't remember collapsing, but she must have. She was finishing the bridge of clouds at one moment and in the next she was in Della's arms while Callan was checking her eyes and pulse. He pulled her up to a sitting position and she took in everyone's wordless shock. "I'm guessing it worked, then?" she asked.

Callan grinned at her. "Like a charm, Delia."

"I think it's time to get everyone into position," Della remarked, helping her to her feet.

Azkadellia nodded and looked over the assembled masses. "Let's start a war."

The magical map of the Mirror Zone was spread out over the table, each corner weighted down with a carved ebony sigil. They were ancient, something that Alec Page had brought along with him. Spells had been worked into the wood, guaranteeing that anything within a twenty meter radius of the four collected items would be protected. It would be impossible for any of Queen Lurlaine's cronies to locate them, let alone spy on them, and they could plan the upcoming siege and battles appropriately.

The shadow bridge was actually marked on the map now, a vague gray overlay to the territories that Azkadellia had covered. "You can't go via land underneath this," Azkadellia said, tracing the gray overlay and looking at Lissa. "If you travel via land, Lurlaine can still shift it as you travel. Then you won't be covered by the shadows and you'll burn in the sun."

"Not exactly what we've promised our people," Lissa murmured wryly.

Azkadellia looked over at the Shadow Brigade generals. "Could any of you actually travel in the clouds themselves? Or just beneath them?"

Tilith scratched her head. She had large feathered wings folded against her back, and her people had been birdfolk. "We could fly, of course, but we couldn't carry many. There's only so much we can do because of the weight."

Azkadellia looked down at the map. Lissa had nearly a hundred Nightwalkers willing to attack the Dawn Sanctuary. Weight was going to be an issue, and she needed the birdfolk to run aerial interference. She felt a nudge at her elbow and looked over at Della. He and Callan weren't technically part of the discussion, but he wasn't so far away that he couldn't hear what the problem was. "Try the bubbles," he said, a wry twist to his lips.

The others were startled by Azkadellia's amused laughter. "Oh! I'd completely forgotten about that! Yes. That ought to make the lot of you light enough, and I could make sure that they're big enough for at least six Nightwalkers per bubble. It'll still take a few trips, but..."

"Six Nightwalkers per bird?" Tilith asked, head cocked to the side. At the same time, Lissa looked at Azkadellia in confusion. "Bubbles?"

Azkadellia sketched out a spherical shape with her hands. "Travel bubbles, the way Practitioners of old used to move from one area in a Zone to another. They're close to weightless, and can float on air. So if we put the Nightwalkers inside..."

"They're light enough to lift easily and move quickly," Lissa replied, catching on.

Alec edged closer to Azkadellia, dropping his hand down so that his fingers overlapped hers. "It sounds like a good plan."

She stood up, pulling her hands away from the map. She turned to Tasilth with a vague smile on her lips. "How many of your people might you be able to spare for this task?"

"All twenty, if you like," she said.

"Then there's enough to get the Nightwalkers across," Hani said with a firm nod. "Acceptable, then. My people will go across the lands. It won't matter to us if she switches locations."

"It might matter if you are left behind and can't fight," the Ventra leader hissed.

"If anyone is lost, I'll know it from where your locations are on the map," Azkadellia said, cutting off Hani's reply. "I'll contact you through message bubbles. No matter where you are, you should still be able to get to your designated part of the Sanctuary. If there is any trouble, we'll figure out a way to transport all of you."

Reluctantly, all parties left the protected area and began their march across the Mirror Zone. Tilith and her people remained behind with the Nightwalkers as Azkadellia began to craft the large travel bubbles. When finished, she let herself sag against Della with a sigh. A few of the Wheelers had remained behind, and gestured for Callan to get the cart Mattoon had brought. "What's this?" he asked warily, still distrustful of the Wheelers.

"The Princess will need transport," the nameless Wheeler replied. "Mattoon and Hani ordered us to carry her to the meeting point. All of our lives are at stake, soldier."

Callan didn't trust the Wheelers or any of the treacherous Low Realm figures they were forced to deal with. He especially didn't like the thief's attention to Azkadellia. But they still needed to travel through the Mirror Zone, and the Wheelers knew the way.

Azkadellia slept the entire time, safe under their careful watch.

***

The land masses reshuffled themselves as the Unseelie Army was in transit. The trolls and the golems were stuck within the desert wasteland that had once been Homespun Valley. The thieves and shadows with Goren were in the Everlasting Forest. The Ventra and the Tari Clan were trapped in the Vale of Tears. Hanja and the Wheelers were in the Silversong Grove. Salan'ri and the ragtag stragglers he had collected were in the Slingwell Swamp. Even Azkadellia and her company were separated from the others, near the Towaco River. Only Tilith and the Nightwalkers were right where they should be, across the river and on the grassy banks of the Dawn Sanctuary's outer border.

Lissa sighed. She had never seen such green before in her life. While there was a relatively narrow band of shadow for her people to move inside compared to the rest of the Dawn Sanctuary's border, there was still enough that she could do to assist the grand plan.

Her people were hungry, and Lurlaine's spies and guards were plentiful.

She raised her arms and bared her sharp fangs and teeth. "Feed," she commanded her followers. "There's plenty more for us inside the gates."

Tilith and the birdfolk hung back as the Nightwalkers surged forward. "I do not like this," she said in a low tone, watching uneasily as a Nightwalker leapt over a copse of trees and bounded into the Sanctuary. The cloud cover had grown since Azkadellia had first created it, so that it had started to cover the entire Sanctuary. The Nightwalkers would have full rein over the entire Sanctuary soon enough, and their ways of feeding where ghastly.

Lissa gave Tilith a toothy grin as one of her followers felled a salamander attempting to burn it alive. The Nightwalker slit its throat and slurped at its blood greedily. Once the corpse was completely drained, the Nightwalker would begin to eat the flesh and suck on the marrow from its bones. "That salamander will do us no harm now," she pointed out. "And my people are hungry. We have not feasted in decades."

Tilith turned away from the sight long before the salamander's blood was completely drained. "Our ways are different."

"Of course they are," Lissa agreed. She laughed in the face of the birdwoman's distaste. "But you're a general, as am I now. Their needs must be attended to. Let your people feed however they choose. There will be nothing when the fighting begins."

It was true enough, and her people flew off into the uncovered regions of the Sanctuary. Lissa turned back to the shadowed realm and let herself loosen her tightly held composure. She caught a shadow fairy fleeing the scene about the throat and began to drink deeply. Blood was life and strength and purpose.

She would not have _anyone_ denying this to any Nightwalker.

***

DG was worried when Azkadellia didn't do the check in via mirror at the arranged time. She stalked the halls of the palace, then bumped into Cain. He looked harried, as if juggling too many different thoughts at once. "Wyatt?"

He blinked and then focused on her. "Oh. Deeg."

"What is it? Something bad?"

He shook his head and extended his arm toward her. "Staff rosters, mentally rearranging troops along the city map. We're going to be stretched tight across the city, but I think I can make it work out all right."

"Anything I can do to help?" DG asked, taking his arm. They fell into step as they walked through the halls together.

"No, I think we're all right. Any news from Az?"

"Nothing," DG said, letting her frustration show. "She's not opening her compact, either." He had long since gotten over his confusion regarding the pocket mirrors she used to communicate with Azkadellia. "I don't even know what's happening."

"It might not be a good time for her to talk. She _is_ starting a war."

DG sighed and nodded. "I know that. I'm just worried about her. Did I screw things up and get her into trouble _again?"_

Cain sighed. "None of what happened before was your fault, DG. You have to believe that."

_I don't know if I can,_ she thought, but nodded for Cain's benefit. "All right."

"You're appeasing me," he told her with a sigh, stopping in his tracks. "She'll be fine. She knows magic. Della and Callan are with her She has Shadow Brigade generals with her. She was buying support from more people. She's just as safe as you are."

But DG didn't feel safe at all, especially with a potential spy among the palace guard ranks.

She pasted a smile on her face and let him escort her back to her rooms. There, the map of the OZ mocked her with its array of pins. Too many blockades, too many soldiers, too many battles and too many deaths.

Real life and responsibility sucked.

***

Siba looked out over his harbor. The entire land was covered in shadow, and none of his messengers could get through to his allies now. He didn't know if their counties were blocked off in this way as well, or if his was the only one. There was no way in or out of his territory, and his men no longer wanted to try to brave the harbor itself. The naval ships anchored out there were filled with inhuman screaming, and even the bravest of his remaining navy and marines didn't want to approach them.

The dark had teeth, and it seemed as though nightmare creatures roamed the decks of those anchored ships.

Perhaps he had underestimated the Gales. The Queen had never seemed the type to do something like this, and the simpering little Other Sider couldn't possibly know this kind of magic. And the older girl was half dead that last he heard. But someone was doing this, and it wasn't any of his own court magician's doing.

He had his court magician set up a scrying spell to try to contact his allies in Ruby Gulch and Caronet. He was too isolated now, locked into his own country. He felt almost claustrophobic, almost afraid.

The dark had teeth. He knew it in his bones, even if his court magician thought he was slowly going insane from the isolation.

But there was no way to contact Ruby Gulch or Caronet. The spells hit some kind of interference from the shadows, and the court magician thought it was likely that they were under the same kind of blockade as Green Harbor.

Siba threw his court magician out of his presence. What use was magic if it couldn't work for you? If it couldn't help you seize control?

The dark had teeth. Of that he was certain. It had fangs and teeth and claws and nails, and he knew that it thirsted for his blood. It wanted him dead, it wanted him _gone,_ and it was in league with the Gales. The dark wanted him dead.

He didn't know how to strike first; all of his weapons were useless against shadows and darkness, and his people were locking themselves into their homes at night. They were useless, faceless things, not even capable of bringing in a full crop. They complained that the shadows were blocking the light of the suns, that there was no way they could meet his taxes because of the poor crop. Lies, one and all. Lies from useless creatures not fit to be part of his kingdom once he'd forged it from the blood of the Gales and the spines of the dark. He had to figure out how to break them, that was all. He had to break them and make them bleed, make them suffer for what they were doing to his lands and his people. They were making him look weak and sick, making him doubt his own abilities. His court magician no doubt was questioning his sanity, even though he knew very well he was perfectly sane.

The dark held teeth. And he would figure out a way to break each and every one, then break the necks of every last Gale and Gale supporter.

***  
***


	14. Glorious Battle

Azkadellia awoke and rubbed at her eyes. It was calm and peaceful, and she could hear the flowing water of a river. That possibly sounded right, as there was a river near the southern edge of the Dawn Sanctuary. Still, something didn't feel right, and the Wheelers' confusion didn't help matters any. She pushed herself to her feet and took in the sight of her tin men, pants rolled up past the knee, sitting at the water's edge and fishing.

She smiled at the sight of them, and pulled off her boots and stockings. That rather looked like fun, actually. She tossed the garments aside and sat in the space between them, her skirts billowing around her legs. She dangled her feet over the edge of the riverbank, letting the cool water flow past her feet. Aliana sighed happily, feeling the flow of water. Cliara merely rolled her eyes at them both and tucked herself back into a recess of Azkadellia's mind.

"I was hoping you'd join us," Callan said with a smile. "The Wheelers are getting antsy. They don't know where we are, and we can't read your map."

"You can't?" she asked, surprised.

"Not a drop of magic in any of us. That thing only gets visible when a magic user is holding it, apparently," Della replied with a shrug.

"And we tried sticking your hand on the corner," Callan added. "Didn't quite work."

Azkadellia summoned the map from their piled belongings. The Wheelers looked discomfited by the map sailing through the air, and shied away from them. She spread the magical map across her lap and looked at the Mirror Zone. "All right. Now that I'm looking at it..." She frowned. "I need to see where all my generals are," she complained.

As she said the words, dots and names appeared on the map. She looked at Callan and Della with a grin on her face. "This is lovely. I can still coordinate things from here, even though Lissa's group is the only one where they should be."

"But we knew this was a possibility," Della remarked. "I'm sure everyone was expecting it."

Azkadellia nodded. She kicked her feet aimlessly through the water for a moment. "All right. We'll just shuffle roles around based on where they are. It's the only way to do this quickly, so that Lurlaine can't gather more forces." She started weaving a small pink message bubble, adding the ability for the recipient to send a message back to her if desired. "We're the farthest away, at least," she murmured as she wove. "So I could always just move us along with a spell now that I'm rested enough."

"Think the Wheelers would want to go up in the air?" Callan asked, snickering at their disquiet.

"Be nice," Azkadellia chided with a smile. "You're nobility, you know. You have to set an example." She ignored Callan's snort and the shake of Della's head.

Using the map as a reference, Azkadellia crafted message bubbles for every group. The trolls and golems had to move due east for nearly eighty drays. The thieves and Goren's group of shadows had to move northwest for just over forty drays. The Ventra and Tari Clan had to climb the mountain range separating the Vale of Tears from the Dawn Sanctuary's border. Hanja and the Wheelers had to move southwest for thirty drays. Salan'ri's group had to cross the Slingwell Swamp and then move ten drays north.

"We're by the Towaco River. We'd have to follow it a hundred drays," she murmured, tracing it along the map with her finger. "Really, it wouldn't be much to make a bubble for the lot of us," she mused. She looked up in time to see the first bubble returning. One by one, they returned, and each group was clear on their directions to get to the Dawn Sanctuary. None needed any additional help to get there, and were eager to start battling the Sanctuary's defenses.

Callan kissed Azkadellia's cheek. "Oh! What was that for?" she asked, turning to look at him in surprise as she rolled up the map.

He smiled as Della pushed her hair back from her shoulders. "We're going to eat something first," he said, nodding toward the pile of fish they had caught. "Then we're going into battle. You can take care of yourself, too, you know."

"You forget," Della said with a shrug, moving to start descaling the fish. "But then, I suppose that gives us something to do."

Azkadellia let them help her up to her feet. She could feel the cool mud squish between her toes and looked down at them. "I'm not exactly a princessly princess anymore, am I?"

"You're _our_ princess," Della replied, looking up from the pile of fish. "Don't let anyone tell you any different."

"And is it really that important to have all that decorum _here?"_ Callan asked, grinning at her. "I mean, really, it's just us. And those guys back there are scared of your shadow."

Azkadellia sat back down on the ground beside them, this time closer to where they set up camp. "I suppose I'm just worried this won't work."

"You're being overly careful," Della told her. "Not necessarily a bad thing."

She kissed his cheek. "Thank you."

"Time enough to beat up the bad guys," Callan murmured, leaning into her on her other side. He slid his hand along her waist possessively. "We'll be fine."

Azkadellia smiled and let them take care of the meal. They had a point. No one knew how fortified Lurlaine was at baseline, so it might be a difficult set of battles ahead.

***

The golems were large and didn't feel discomfort at all. They easily carried the trolls across the eighty drays to the edge of the Dawn Sanctuary. Being not all that intelligent, however, they kept right on going and smashed through the physical barriers at the edge of the Sanctuary. Hani sighed and shook his head, but supposed that he shouldn't be too hard on the creatures. The desert wasteland that had once been Homespun Valley would have been uncomfortable to cross without them. "Let us down before you keep going!" Hani called out.

Some of the golems managed to stop briefly and lower the trolls to the ground. Hani had never been this far away from the Low Realms before. He had certainly never been to the Dawn Sanctuary, had never been close to anything so bright and green and so obviously made of magic before. In the Mist Parish, there were steep hills and cliffs, rocky soil and roaming bands of creatures struggling to make ends meet. The Dawn Sanctuary was its antithesis, like nothing he was used to. If he was the type to admit to being uneasy, this was the kind of place that would do it. He was out of his element here, in the middle of magic he wasn't used to.

He pulled out his sword and let his lip curl in anger when he saw the sylphs coming closer to him and his men. The golems kept going, only remembering that they had to move due east. They were large and cumbersome creatures, lumbering forward. Their maws gaped wide, dripping mud and slime, their hands reaching forward for something to hold onto. _Forward,_ they knew, _Destroy and kill._

Hani swung upward, slicing the arm off of a sylph. It let out a high pitched shriek as translucent blood poured from the wound. He stabbed forward with his sword, his other arm pulled back as a counterweight. The sylph's remaining hand closed over the sword, and Hani could tell that the creature was trying to weave a spell onto the blade. He roared forward and struck the sylph's head with his own. The sylph was fragile, and crumpled at the contact, spell unfinished.

Grunting, Hani pulled his sword out of the sylph's chest. He was surrounded by his fellow trolls, each armed with knives and swords, being attacked by the sylphs living in this part of the Dawn Sanctuary. Hani stepped on the neck of the sylph he had bested, feeling the snap of bone beneath his boot. "To victory!" he called out, raising his sword.

His men answered in kind where able. "To victory!"

It had been millennia since the trolls had been involved in a battle of this magnitude. It felt glorious, and he couldn't understand why he had been so resistant to Azkadellia's request before. It didn't matter if she wanted to put a sham princess on a sham throne. The thrill of the battle was upon him and his men, and that was all that mattered.

Hani moved forward, shouting at a sylph ahead of him. The sylph was smarter than some of its compatriots, and had tried to grab a sword of its own. The two swords clashed, magic-imbued bronze sliding across Hani's cold iron sword. He bared his teeth at the sylph's smirk of triumph, and dug in his belt with his free hand. He pulled out his cold iron short sword and plunged it straight into the sylph's neck. The startled sylph couldn't even scream, couldn't even draw in a frightened breath. The cold iron kept the wound from sealing shut, and it bled freely once Hani pulled out his short sword. The sylph dropped its sword and pushed its fingers against the wound that couldn't close. It gaped at Hani, dropping to its knees helplessly as he turned away to attack another sylph.

He laughed as he moved forward with his men, as the sylphs came in waves. The trolls were armed with cold iron, and the sylphs were either armed with imbued bronze swords or staffs. Some of the sylphs carried no weapons at all, but tried to weave magic spells of protection on their people. They were easily cut down; it took concentration to weave large spells, and they were completely defenseless otherwise.

Hani was covered in translucent sylph blood. It evaporated to steam when it touched the cold iron of his weapons or plates of armor woven into his clothing.

"Faerie scum," Hani snarled, plunging his sword into another sylph's retreating back. It wailed an inhuman cry, and he kicked the sylph off of his blade.

He and his men numbered just over a hundred, and the sylphs were easily in the thousands. They had been overconfident, hadn't even thought to check what kind of weaponry they were up against in this fight.

He laughed when one imbued sword sliced along his arm. He didn't even feel a thing, and the sylph was so focused on its strike that it left its defenses open. Hani swung around in an arc, lopping off the sylph's head easily. Once more forward, into the fray, stabbing and striking at the sylph battalion, parrying blows easily. Cold iron did more damage to the sylph than imbued bronze could ever do to a troll.

"Hani!" one of his subcommanders cried, pointing to his right arm.

He looked down at the wound he had received from the bronze sword. The edges were puckered and blackening, almost smoking. The blood had congealed and turned green, looking almost like pus. Hani pressed his lips together in distaste and then lifted his short sword. He pressed it along the wound in the hopes that the cold iron would counteract the magicked wound somehow. It _burned_ like unholy fire, worse than any medicine or stitching his people knew of, and was likely the kind of pain the sylphs felt at the touch of his weapons. The smoking had stopped when he lifted the short sword from his arm, and the pus-looking blood fell from the wound. It was still puckered and black, and likely wouldn't ever heal properly.

Hani nodded his thanks at his subcommander and let out a howl of rage. Trolls of his line millennia ago had been known as berserkers, and he could suddenly understand why his ancestors would want to wreak such havoc.

"Kill the faerie scum!" he shouted, raising his swords. He ran forward into a knot of sylphs approaching, and knew that his men were doing the same. No magicked wound would slow him down, and no sylph would get the better of him.

He was Hani Somme Annan of the C'vali tribe of the Mist Parish, recognized leader of all the lost people of the Mist Parish. He would _not_ let some insignificant sylph be his downfall, and he would _not_ let the glory of the Low Realms be lessened in this fight against the Queen Lurlaine.

The Dawn Sanctuary was going to fall, and he would make sure of it with his last breath if he had to.

***

Alec Page kept his grip on his knives tight. He didn't trust this Shadow Brigade general, though Goren had made no move to double cross any of the thieves in his guild. It was Page's way not to trust anyone, to second guess and mistrust everyone that crossed his path.

It was the forest, too. The Everlasting Forest was strange, and not just because there were no such things in the Dead Wastes. He'd seen trees before, even clumps of them that might be considered a grove. The Everlasting Forest was deep and dark and too green, too quiet, and too unsettling. It was almost like being watched without anyone there. Goren had said that the Queen Lurlaine had shadow faeries in her employ, that she had been known to weave horrid magicks around the opposition. And the Everlasting Forest didn't take kindly to strangers that might do it harm. None of the men Goren collected or the Thieves' Guild would do damage to the forest, but it was a _forest._ You couldn't talk to a forest. You couldn't reason with it. Page didn't care if it was imbued with magic from the soil on up to the top of its crown. Trees were trees and they were not creatures to reason with.

He trusted in his knives. They were solid steel and tipped with cold iron. Everyone in the Low Realms had something cold iron on them. It was protection against the faeries, against the magic Lurlaine could employ. Cold iron kept the weavings from being stable.

Of course, Lady Delia's weavings were different, but there was something else about her that was simply fascinating. And not just that Page wanted to move beneath her dress. No, there was that feeling he had that something was amiss with her. Something not quite right, something that was important. She was unaffected by cold iron, reacting as any mortal human would react to it. She wasn't faerie, then, but her magic affected faeries. Her magic did strange things in the world, and it was unlike anything Page had even heard about. Too bad her guards were continually at her side. He would have liked to see what a human witch was like when bared to the skin.

Page paused when he heard a lonesome cry through the treetops. There had been no birdsong, no creature calls, no warble of predators moving in on a hunt. The forest had been preternaturally silent, and they were nearly forty drays into the travel. The forest should end soon, and they would be at the Dawn Sanctuary.

Page didn't want to think about how strange that place would be, especially after running through the Everlasting Forest.

The lonesome cry overhead was answered by a similar cry. And then it multiplied, and the hairs on the back of Page's neck stood on end.

_Someone is hunting us._

Page whistled to his men to hurry, and picked up his pace. The Shadow Brigade members with Goren wouldn't have to worry. They were shadow men, impossible to hunt in that form. It was Page and his men that would have to worry if they were hunted, Page and his men that would be torn limb from limb.

There was a break in the trees ahead, and Page could almost breathe a sigh of relief. There was a river, the river that encircled the Dawn Sanctuary and was the very border of the forest that they were looking for. Their travels through this godforsaken forest were at an end.

He saw a dark shadow swoop down out of the trees and pick up one of his men, not even ten feet ahead of him. Shrieking, the man flailed and kicked at the shadowy assailant. His bow and arrow fell to the forest floor uselessly, and the glint of his knives in motion did nothing. His shrieks died off abruptly, and the forest fell silent once again.

It seemed as if nothing moved for hours. Page and his men were waiting for someone to make the first move and draw the shadows down.

The river was just ahead, less than a dray, and it taunted Page. They had crossed the entire length of the fucking Everlasting Forest, and now, with less than a dray left, a predator was starting to make its move. Perfect.

He let out a low whistle. It was a cautionary whistle, letting his men know that he didn't know what the hell was happening, but they would likely have to fight.

His men began to move after a moment, when the forest seemed silent. Page stepped silently forward, his knives at the ready in a tight grip. He wouldn't go down that way, kicking and screaming and flailing like a victim. He refused to be caught the way his marks were, unawares and unable to fight back. He was the leader of the Thieves' Guild, and he had made the guild successful in the Dead Wastes. He wouldn't go down like a youngling with no experience just because the forest was full of filthy magical beasts.

The shadows swooped down as his men began to run, and it was like they were plucking the men from the forest floor like fruit. "Goren!" Page yelled. "Stop them!"

"They're not ours!" Goren replied, partially materializing next to Page. "I don't know what they are, but they're not part of the Brigade."

Page could see darkness descending for him, and opened his mouth to shout, his arms raised and ready to strike with his knives. But Goren enveloped him into his shadow, and Page could feel his entire body _shift._

Some of the other Shadow Brigade members were doing that, enfolding the thieves they could see into themselves and trying to move past the shadows descending from the treetops. Page couldn't move, couldn't feel his body. He could feel the cold fingers of terror along his spine, the sensation of his heart beating so hard he thought it would break through his chest wall.

The Shadow Brigade members slid out of the forest and crossed the river. Only when they were on Dawn Sanctuary grounds did they shift back into physical forms. This released the bound thieves, and they went tumbling down to the grassy ground.

"What in bloody hell?" Page gasped, coughing and looking at the forest's edge. The shadows between the trees were menacing, and he thought for a moment that he could see eyes and teeth and leathery wings within the darkness.

"Feral creatures," Goren said, looking back at the forest as well. "Not like the mobats of stories, but something much worse."

"Mobats don't eat men!" one of Page's men cried, shoving at Goren. He was trying to burn off his fear, they both knew.

Goren shook off the man easily, shaking his head. "No, but there was nothing else alive in that forest. I think we were lucky they waited as long as they did."

Page rose to his feet and took stock of his men. He'd lost seventeen to the feral mobats of the forest, and he spat on the ground. "I say it comes out of the Queen's hide."

His men raised their knives in agreement, and they broke out in a run, heading for the heart of the Dawn Sanctuary.

***

The Ventra and the Tari Clan had no trouble crossing the mountains separating the Vale of Tears from the Dawn Sanctuary. Hanja and the Wheelers easily crossed the Silversong Grove, the wheels eating up the drays. They each landed in their respective areas of the Dawn Sanctuary and immediately began to attack anything that moved near the fence. Mattoon had said that their victory against the Dawn would mean they would get their women and children back, some kind of territory as well. The Wheelers were vicious as a result, surprising Hanja and the collected Shadow Brigade soldiers she controlled.

Salan'ri crossed the Slingwell Swamp and traveled the ten drays north. There was no opposition at that area of the Dawn Sanctuary, so those Shadow Brigade forces were able to move along the main thoroughfare easily, heading for the central palace.

The palace was surrounded by a high wall of green stones, and courtiers at the gates refused to open them. Salan'ri merely smiled and reverted to his true form. He was a full dray tall, with eight serpentine heads and eight tails descending from his back.He had moved between various Zones before settling on the Outer Zone with his other Shadow Brigade brethren. He knew in one Zone he was called the Yamata no Orochi, and fearsome stories had been told about this demon. None of them were true, but he did enjoy the tales immensely.

Salan'ri grasped the courtier at the gate with one of his heads and began to tear the pitiful creature apart with his others. Someone else was ringing an alarm at the gate, and he could hear the sound of thunder in the distance. Only, the ground shook at the same time, so it wasn't likely a storm of some kind.

From this height, he could see from the palace to the outer rim of the Dawn Sanctuary. There were battles all around the palace, with dead and wounded faeries all around.

There was a roar above, and Salan'ri could make out the form of a dragon flying overhead. Ah, so his traitorous cousins remained in Lurlaine's employ?

Oh, he would enjoy this indeed.

The Ventra, Tari and Wheelers were in combat on the ground, and it looked to be a fairly even fight between the Shadow Brigade and their allies and the forces from the Dawn Sanctuary. He thought for a moment that perhaps the dragon was merely a scout.

The thought was proved incorrect when the dragon overhead opened its mouth to take in a great mouthful of air.

Salan'ri recognized the markings on the dragon's belly. It was Montale, his eldest cousin and the first to take Lurlaine's side when the courts split in two. Montale had been the first to disown Salan'ri and his brethren, to mark them outcasts within the great serpent hierarchy. The wyverns had been next, and they were obliterated in the last war. If his entire body had not been reformed into shadow, Salan'ri and the other Orochi would have been obliterated completely as well. He technically had died long ago, as did all the other Orochi.

Salan'ri rose up to his full height and then launched himself at Montale's soft underbelly. One of his eight heads sank its fangs deep into the air bladder. Without air to mix with the dragon's inner fire sacs, it wouldn't be able to shoot its deadly flame jets. One of his other heads laughed, and another sank its teeth into one of Montale's lungs. _Try to fight with that!_ he thought, free heads looking about to be sure they didn't crash.

He didn't see Montale's daughter rush into place behind him, jaws snapping on his tails. Salan'ri howled in pain as his tails were broken off and spat down to the ground beneath them. Montale was losing height, and his daughter tried to pull at his wings and help lift him. She avoided Salan'ri's jaws easily enough, then flew off when Montale made a rasping noise of disapproval at her. She swung back into the air, then blasted Montale and Salan'ri with a jet of white hot flames.

As the ground rushed up to meet them, Salan'ri couldn't regret a thing. At least Montale was dead, and the ground beneath them was clear.

The earth shook with the impact, the hand to hand combatants on the ground thrown. Salan'ri couldn't disentangle himself from Montale's broken body, and he shouted up curses at Montale's daughter. The bitch dragon merely circled the fray, then headed back for the palace.

Salan'ri closed all of his eyes and let the fire take over. He couldn't move, and he was too far broken to hope to shift to his shadow form. Perhaps he could have stopped the damage sooner if he had done that in midair, but it was too late now.

At least Montale was dead. He could rest easy knowing that.

He could hear the sound of grunts and swords and bodies falling to the earth beside him. It sounded as though the war was truly happening, and this time Lurlaine couldn't simply turn her back on the devastation. They had taken it to her home, to the very gates of her palace, and it wasn't some awkward valley being razed to the ground.

It sounded like a glorious battle. Salan'ri could only regret not killing more of his traitorous dragon cousins before his death.

***  
***


	15. Eyes In The Dark

White had been a thief since he could understand what it was to steal. He had been a thin and wiry child, underfed and hungry more often than not. He could disappear sideways into the wind, his mother's pimp had said, and his fingers were as quick as the wind as well. Pockets weren't that far away from his face, and no one thought a slip of a boy like him could possibly be responsible for all the wallets and coins and jewels stolen. He had an angel's face, though he didn't know where that came from. His mother wasn't particularly pretty, especially not now, not when times were hard and there was little enough work to keep the pimp's hands from knocking her about. White did what he could to help meet their room's rents, and some days his earnings were all they had.

War was bad on the Sin District, that was for certain. White hated it.

There was work to be had by the gates, though that was tricky business. Most of the castle guards didn't like boys hanging about, didn't like the shifty eyes and the sharp tongues of the older ones or the way that some of the dark clad people always assumed that enough coin could get their way in through the gates.

But there were also the dishonest guards, the ones that let them slip. Everyone knew that.

White crept close to the West Gate, where Old Haddigan had said that the dishonest guards tended to keep rotation light and easy. This was where the dark clad folk crept in, carrying coins as bright as the suns. This was where a little work could likely be had for a boy with sharp eyes and a disappearing body.

The dishonest guards let themselves be known by a square of color peeking out from behind the patch of the palace guard staff. Old Haddigan had said that it should be light blue or yellow, something easy to see and remember against the purple and white and green of the royal insignia, something easy to pass on by whispers. But White couldn't see any peep of color behind the royal insignia on the uniform of the guard at the West Gate, so maybe Old Haddigan was wrong about that little detail. The guards were thinned out and few wandered around in the dark any longer. The whispers in the Sin District was that evil magic was afoot, that the Gales brought in wicked magic to keep the traitors in line. It might be true, it might not. White didn't follow politics; no one cared what happened in the Sin District but the blackguards left there. Still, he had to admit, the shadows seemed thicker around the gates, and the dark seemed to have a heavier weight than they used to.

But White also knew that there weren't as many dead rats in alleys, or the homeless that slept amongst the garbage. Something was scaring them off. Or eating them.

"Benton," White heard someone hiss in the darkness. "Damn your ancestors, Benton! Where are you?" the voice called out. White pressed himself backward into the darkness, rubbing more dirt into his sallow cheeks. The joke went that he was called White because he had been that color when he was born, but all the dirt and soot since then stained his skin almost black in some places. White didn't care; it let him blend in better.

A figure in a dark cloak, the hood pulled down low over his features, came into White's view. He was looking around, clearly trying to find someone who should have been at the West Gate. He wasn't very happy by the absence of any figure there, and White kept his mouth shut and his breathing even. He narrowed his eyes a fraction to keep the whites from shining in the dark, just to be sure. There had been a single guard at the West Gate, but he had walked north some time ago. There hadn't been any color behind his insignia. This hooded figure was holding a yellow handkerchief in his hand, and it looked to be stained with blood from where White stood.

Perhaps Old Haddigan hadn't been completely wrong.

The guard was returning from his northerly patrol, and the hooded figure ducked behind a pile of crates that held garbage from the merchant's district. It would be hauled away in the morning. It reeked of a thousand different kinds of stink. The figure coughed, not used to the reek, and alerted the guard to his position. White just pressed farther back in his own pile; it didn't matter about the smell, it mattered about not getting caught and not having any creature dive down out of the muck to try to eat him.

The guard held his hand over his service weapon as he approached the crates, peering into the darkness. White knew he wouldn't find anything unless the hooded figure was stupid; there was only starlight above, and that made it harder to track light in the crooked alleyways between the Old Town and the City gates. The guard slipped on a wet cobble, and apparently it was just enough for him to see the flash of the hooded figure's handkerchief, still clutched tightly within his fist. "Oi, you!" the guard called out, rushing forward.

"Where's Benton?" the hooded figure complained, diving sideways and losing hold of his yellow handkerchief. "Benton was supposed to be here tonight!"

The guard got a shot off, but it went harmlessly through the hooded figure's cloak. The figure whirled around, and White could see the flash of weak starlight over the metal of a wicked looking blade. He'd seen those kinds of daggers before, belonging to the Thieves' Guild's rejects; they tried to band together to make their own guild, but they lacked to focus of the Thieves' Guild. White was too young for it; they took boys over twelve only. White was cunning, but he wasn't quite old enough for their minds.

The hooded figure was fairly inept at hiding in the dark, but he could wield that blade effortlessly enough that White knew he had some kind of training. White thought perhaps he came from outside of Central City; there was something off about his accent, something that the desperation brought out of him. He was no Central City slum kid, and not likely from the outlying city areas either. He was new, some kind of recent transplant, and White winced when he slit the guard's throat in a single move. Hot blood gushed from the guard's throat, falling down over his uniform like rain. The hooded figure grunted and kicked at the guard before spitting on his body. "Damn it, Benton," the figure hissed. "I need the way back _out."_

White kept his mouth shut, his breathing even and his eyes closed tight as the hooded figure passed. Most folk didn't check the garbage piles, didn't think to look down into the corners of things. They trusted their eyes too much, and trusted what they _thought_ they saw far too much to be safe. White knew that he wouldn't be found.

But now he wondered what _he_ had found, and how much it might be worth.

***

DG knew there were problems the moment the sirens started within the palace to alert the guards. Considering that everyone knew Cain stayed with her, the sirens meant to wake him had been placed in her suite as well. He was instantly awake and alert, a trait she still hadn't developed yet, and was pulling on his uniform. "Wyatt?"

"Stay here inside the wards until I know what we're dealing with, Deeg," he said, voice tense and his shoulders hunched. "With everything going on right now..."

"That's why I've been getting lessons..."

DG stopped at the drawn expression on Wyatt's face and the haunted look in his eyes. "Please, Deeg. I don't want to worry about you, too."

She tamped down on the urge to tell him that she could handle herself, thank you very much, and she had magic now to boot. She merely reached out and grasped his face in her hands. "Whatever it is, I will find you and kill you if you die on me. Got it?"

His lips quirked into a smile and he wound his arms around her shoulders. She could feel every button and cold bit of braiding that told his rank through the thin nightgown. "I wouldn't expect anything less from you."

Wyatt Cain strode into the central office for the palace guard in the south wing of the palace. All of the heads of security were present by the time he arrived. "What happened?"

"One of the Shadow Brigade rang the bell," one the lieutenants remarked. "Novae, I think."

Cain wasn't familiar with the name, but that didn't mean anything. "What do we know about the situation that led to the ringing?"

"Mannon's dead," another lieutenant said heavily. "We found his body by the West Gate."

They had known that Mannon was unfailingly loyal to the Gale line. Every man and woman in the central office was. The questionable ones had been sent elsewhere, to more observable locations in the palace and city. The questionable guards at the West Gate had been Benton, Lisdel, Tolono and Kittredge. Mannon was dead now, and there was no way to tell which guard should have been there in his stead.

"Novae thinks there's a witness," the lieutenant continued, her face earnest as she spoke. "We couldn't find any particular clues, but the garbage in the area..." She looked at Cain, almost apologetic. "It's the Sin District, so it's about as easy to find information as if we had gone to the Realm of the Unwanted."

"We'll need to move fast, before anyone that we suspect knows about this."

"But what do you—"

The third lieutenant in the room was cut off as a messenger raced into the central office. "The... Justicar... About ten minutes ago... A boy was found..."

"Catch your breath," Cain told the panting messenger, who looked ready to collapse. "You ran all the way from the Gate?" The messenger nodded, and Cain indicated for one of the lieutenants to give the messenger a seat and some water. "Drink, rest a moment, then start again."

The messenger looked at Cain gratefully and struggled to get his breath under control. "One of the Justicars for the West Gate area thinks she found sign of a boy that might have seen what happened. It's a known pickpocket in the area, some half starved thing. He was crawling in the garbage holds near the Gate."

Cain nodded at the messenger. "Let the man get settled with some food in the kitchens," he told one of the lieutenants. He looked to the other two. "With me."

Not running as fast as the messenger, it took twice as long to reach the West Gate area. The surrounding area in the Old Town was known as the Sin District. Whores openly sold themselves for pimps, the Sorceress' vapors were still sold and powders of dubious purpose regularly exchanged hands. There was no official Thieves' Guild, though there were several rival gangs that each purported to be an official guild. The black market was thriving here, and the underhanded dealings were rivaled only by what went on in the Realm of the Unwanted. The activities in Central City were contained in only the Sin District, at least.

Cain strode directly up to the Justicar for the Brickwall part of Old Town. Cain didn't know everyone in Central City, and Justicars tended to change every few years. Few people wanted to bear the brunt of an entire district's rage for very long, and Justicars were supposed to impartially mete justice to those that Tin Men brought in for breaking the law. It was strange that a Tin Man wasn't present when the Justicar was, and that the Justicar for Brickwall was instantly nervous once he saw Cain headed in his direction.

"Justicar," Cain intoned, nodding at the thin woman in the Justicar's uniform. "You're the one that found Defender Mannon?"

"I am," the woman said. "I am Justicar Carin, newly assigned to Brickwall, sir."

Cain smiled thinly. "Taking a tour of the Sin District, then?" he asked. The Justicar paled slightly at his sardonic tone. "Let me see the body."

The Justicar moved sharply, and Cain could see the stab wounds and the slit throat clearly. They were deep, even cuts with clean edges that didn't pucker. Straight edge and no poison, then, so not one of the larger Thieves' Guilds, Cain decided. He looked up at the Justicar. "You haven't moved the body, I hope?" The Justicar shook her head. Cain pulled on a pair of gloves and began to examine the way Mannon had fallen. "I heard something about a boy that was found a short time ago, a possible witness."

"He claims he has information," Justicar Carin said, though her tone was clear that she didn't believe him at all.

"I'll want to speak with the boy, of course," Cain said, moving to stand up. The Justicar bristled and opened her mouth to speak. "There's no Tin Man assigned to this," Cain interrupted sharply, "and that's a break in protocol for investigative procedure. I have experience, so I'll be taking on the investigation for this personally. That is all."

Effectively dismissed, Justicar Carin could only gape at Cain in shock until another palace guard suggested that she return home. Implicit in that request was that Justicar Carin refrained from discussing what had happened by the West Gate, and they would refrain from asking what she had been doing out in the Sin District in the middle of the night.

Two palace guards that had investigated the Justicar's call were physically holding the skinny wraith of a boy in place. He was spitting and kicking at them, shouting vile things about their heritage and sexual habits as the two guards stoically continued to hold him. Cain suppressed a grin at the sight of the boy and was glad that DG wasn't with him. She'd take a shine to the lost little thing immediately, and he knew very well what that would mean. She would want to stuff him full of food and add him to her little menagerie of stray people and creatures. The boy clearly could take care of himself, but DG would still want to coddle him.

But then, DG got the results she did for a reason.

Cain hunkered down until he was at the boy's eye level. He was careful to stay back far enough to be out of range of the boy's legs. "When was the last time you ate something?" he began, not even bothering to get the boy's name or blustering about how the boy would have to do what he was told.

The boy quieted, staring at Cain with deep mistrust. "Depends on what you're talkin' 'bout."

Sin District accent, so he was a home grown miscreant. Cain could work with this. "Actual food, and not garbage scrounged out of a bin somewhere."

The boy's jaw tightened. "I had a slice of bread two days ago."

Cain nodded and rose to his full height again. "Let's escort our young friend to the kitchens," he told the guards holding onto the boy. He could feel the boy's eyes on him like daggers, but could ignore it. That was a familiar feeling, like sliding into his Tin Man's skin. This was doing something, this was going to get results. He'd find something useful, something of interest to start getting to who killed Mannon. Mannon had been a good man, loyal and hardworking, with an ailing sister to inform.

"I'm sure we can start this all again once our young friend is properly fed," Cain continued easily. He ignored the sputtered curses from the boy and gestured for them to head to the palace by way of the kitchens. The Shadow Brigade had pointed out the boy, so he had been in the area when Mannon died. That didn't mean he would simply cooperate, and Cain knew what needed to be done. Breakfast was in a few hours yet, but the kitchens were always busy around the clock. People were always about in a place as large and heavily staffed as the palace, so there was always something warm to eat in the kitchens. Food would help the investigation better than threats and vague intimations; hunger always made tempers sharper and memories dulled.

The boy put away soup first, then sandwiches and fruit and tea and milk, all things he hadn't been sure about at first but he finally touched with Cain's urging. When he was full and a little more comfortable around Cain, he stopped looking at the guards with quite an angry gaze. He was still resentful, but just as Cain had hoped, he was less tense. "What's your name, kid?" The boy just stared blankly, jutting his jaw out slightly. "Unless you want me calling you kid while we talk? Most folk would rather be called by their names."

"White," the boy said grudgingly after a moment. He stared at Cain, wondering if he was going to laugh or demand a proper name from him.

But Cain merely nodded. "Fair enough. I have a friend named Ghost."

White visibly relaxed when he wasn't laughed at. "Old Haddigan knows a Ghost."

Cain laughed. "Is Haddigan still alive, then? Wobbly leg, missing three fingers on his right hand and has a glass eye?" The boy goggled at him, nodding. "I wasn't always part of the castle guard, kid," Cain said, and let the boy draw his own conclusions.

"So Old Haddigan really does know everyone and everything, then," the boy mused.

"Some things. I'm sure you know plenty he doesn't."

White looked at Cain shrewdly. "How much is it worth?"

"What do you want?"

White narrowed his eyes at Cain. He didn't want to overprice himself out of a sale, and he didn't want to underprice himself either. Old Haddigan often said the palace folk were stingier than they could afford to be, but they weren't stupid either. And if this fellow in the guard's uniform knew Haddigan, he had once known how the Sin District worked. "We can start with food, a favor to call in and ten guilders," White said as an opening salvo.

"If you need a favor, that tells me maybe you have someone to protect," Cain said slowly. He understood the kid's reticence if that was true.

White thrust his jaw out belligerently again. "What's it to you?"

"You might need more than one favor to call in, depending on the trouble that person is in."

"I could lie," White said, "I could tell you shit and you won't know it."

Cain leveled a gaze at White. "Do you really think I wouldn't know it?"

The boy gulped at the sight of Cain's tight expression. It had been worth a shot, but he was back to square one again. "No one comes to the Sin District no more. Rent's gotta be paid, an' I don't get enough to cover rent an' food." White stared at Cain. "There's shit to tell and truth to tell, if you want both."

"Tell me what happened." Depending on how observant the kid was, Cain could probably use another set of eyes in the dark. The Shadow Brigade was good at that, but they didn't live in the slums of the city and didn't know its underbelly. Even Cain didn't know all the major players anymore, though it was nice to know a few of them were still around.

White slowly began to stammer about the color codes at the gates, the name the hooded assailant had called for. He described the knife used, how quickly the guard had gone down since he had been there at the West Gate alone. He told the truth, every last bit of it, and watched Cain's face turn ashen in all the appropriate bits.

"I have a job for you," Cain said when White had fallen silent. "You are going to report to myself or to those two lieutenants back there," he said, nodding at the two that had helped to corral the boy in the West Gate debris. "Your job will involve keeping an eye on that Gate for us. If you see that man, anyone like him, with that knife, _anything,_ I need you to come for us and ask for only the three of us."

There was more to this, White could tell. "What's this, then?"

"You might just help us find a traitor," Cain told the boy. "And if he's as high up as I think he is, it might be enough to end this war that much faster."

Win and win, as far as White was concerned. "Ten guilders up front, then," he said. The man in front of him had a lot of decorated braid on his uniform, so that was likely nothing to him.

Cain smiled and dug into his pocket. "Here's fifteen. Pay off that rent and feed whoever it is you need to feed."

White bit each coin to be sure they were real, even though he had the feeling they were. "Well, that's an easy enough job, then."

"Don't get yourself killed, kid," Cain intoned, standing. He nodded at the lieutenants. "They'll get you back where you were. Don't even tell Old Haddigan about this, all right?"

White sniffed disdainfully. "And give him a cut? Never."

Cain suppressed his laughter until after the boy left. Maybe DG's befriending technique wasn't all that bad. His old routine to threaten or browbeat the boy certainly wouldn't have worked in this situation at all.

And they were likely closer to closing in on the spies within the palace guard.

***

DG stopped in her tracks as she walked through the halls of the palace. "Glitch?" she called out in disbelief. "Is that you?" The figure up ahead stopped and half turned. She grinned and hurried ahead to catch up. "But you were with Raw and Ronsard and..."

The face was different. She couldn't quite place it, since it did look like Glitch. But there was something to the tilt of his mouth, the flash of the zipper at his head and the way his hair was twisted in on itself. Everything was just subtly off somehow, just enough that the hackles were rising on the back of her neck. It grew worse when he smiled at her.

"I was looking for you. Why don't we go talk somewhere? The room with the maps, perhaps. I like maps," he said cheerily. The voice was just off by a little as well.

DG froze. "I think we should find Raw."

"Well, he's still where we were..." Glitch's voice trailed off but DG didn't supply the area. Her teeth were on edge, and she was trying to back away without it being so apparent. "Well," he said, rocking back and forth on his heels. "I forget, you know. But he's there. I'm sure of it. I know I can be of use elsewhere now. But we'll know if we look at the plans."

DG stepped back, looking at Glitch warily. "Who are you?"

Glitch's face froze. "I'm Glitch, of course."

"No, you're not. You _look_ like him, sort of, and you _sound_ like him, sort of, but you're not him. I know you're not. You're not my friend. So who are you?"

"Fuck this," he muttered after a moment, lunging for DG. She shrieked and tried to let out a blast of magic to throw him back. But he had a tight hold of her arms, and the blast spun them around in a tight circle. They flew toward the wall, and DG's head hit a column with a loud crack.

She collapsed to the floor, still breathing but not moving.

With a grunt, the last of the glamour faded from the man's body. He was in a tight black bodysuit and a long hooded cape. He had dark eyes sunken into a sallow face and dark hair that almost blended into the shadows. He had a chain around his waist and a wicked knife sheathed and strapped to his thigh. He also had small, thin knives tucked into his boots and along the insides of his sleeves. He had trained for years how to use them most effectively, and how to use glamours to get close enough to his target.

His target was unconscious, however. And he was no closer to the battle strategy she was using or the map of her army outposts. He needed to get the hell out of Central City and back to Green Harbor to collect his payment. The whispers in the Sin District held that the breakaway counties were being punished by Old Magic and Horrible Things. The whispers were always vague and intimating the worst, and he was sure that they were false.

Lips pressed together unhappily, he threw the unconscious princess over his shoulder and moved back into the maze of corridors that only the servants knew about. The one that had told him how to get through the maze was still stuck to the wall in one of the corridors, cutlery she had been returning to the kitchens pinning her corpse in place. It might be some time before her violated corpse was found, and he planned to be far away when that happened.

But he needed the princess alive for that. He needed her to wake up and tell him what the battle plans were. He needed her to tell him the safest route out of the city; with the blockade at the Gates, the guards would know him for what he was and kill him on sight. If he had the princess in tow, he might actually make it out of the city.

The assassin broke out into a run, heading into the maze of the palace's back corridors.

***  
***


	16. Breaking The Dawn

When the golems smashed through the palace in the heart of the Dawn Sanctuary, Queen Lurlaine couldn't help but notice what was going on. The skirmishes at the periphery of her realm were easy to ignore, but this was not.

Ozma was locked safely in her room, fast asleep. She would stay that way for days yet; the foolish girl had lost her locket somewhere years ago, and it had contained a fragment of her original soul. Without it, her regenerative powers were much slower than it used to be, so that she slept for days on end after Lurlaine siphoned off her magic instead of bouncing back by the next day. It was just as well; Lurlaine no longer had to try to entertain her addled niece or put up with her nattering about idiotic things.

Lurlaine's lips curled as she took in the skirmishes all around the borders of the Sanctuary, all the different creatures rising up at once to fight. There were trolls and Wheelers and Nightwalkers and various clans of humanoid descent fighting her fairies, and the shadows in her land seemed thicker and more ominous somehow. _They will not frighten me,_ she thought, moving away from the window.

The fact that creatures had made it _this close_ to her home was troubling. The shifting regions usually kept anyone from making any coordinated attacks. These skirmishes were all well coordinated, all orchestrated and were cutting a swath through her forces. Her forces had grown soft over the millennia, too confident that fear of Lurlaine would keep them all safe from outsiders. Even Lurlaine had grown somewhat soft; the last outsiders to the Sanctuary had been Ozma's guests a hundred or so years before, and they had done absolutely nothing.

Seers had said that arrogance and missing the details in things would lead to her undoing. _A shiny bauble lost in time will be the final key to destroying your kingdom,_ the seer had said before Lurlaine had her eyes put out. _You won't even know it's gone until the end comes for you,_ the seer had continued, and then Lurlaine had ordered her tongue cut out.

Lurlaine had killed the seer after that point, had drawn in the woman's entire life force and magic, wrapping it around herself. Lurlaine knew the truth in the words, knew with absolute certainty that the woman hadn't lied or distorted the truth the way some seers did.

Lurlaine's rule was about to end.

***

Large chunks of the central palace were demolished, and Lissa drew back her lips in a grimace of a smile. Azkadellia's storm clouds cast thick shadows over it, and she let the Nightwalkers head forward, glutting themselves on the blood and marrow and flesh of the fae coming forward out of the palace. On other sides of the palace, the Wheelers, trolls, and humanoid clans were closing in and heading for the areas already destroyed by the rampaging golems. They were stupid creatures, still stomping and moving around without clear purpose. But they destroyed very well, and immense parts of the palace were without protection. They couldn't feel pain from fire, arrow or sword, and the golems kept walking about in large, lazy circles, flattening everything in their path. The Unseelie forces knew to keep out of the way, could see the circles for what they were. Most of the Seelie forces couldn't see past their own little swatches of space, and didn't have the advantage of knowing the full plan.

They were closing in on the palace, all of them, and Lissa found herself close to the leader of the Thieves' Guild. "Page," she hissed. "Where are your men?"

Partly covered in blood, the thief turned to look at her. "The forest we passed through... There were creatures that came down and ate us. The Shadow Brigade said they were mobats, but no mobat, no matter how feral, could do something like that."

Lissa nodded. "We'll need your men inside the palace."

"But the Lady Delia..."

Really, the man's infatuation with her was silly. "Is mated to her satisfaction, fool," Lissa snapped, shaking her head. "We need your men inside, killing the guards that remain. We need you to do what you do best: be a thief."

"What am I stealing, then?" he sneered at her, tucking one of his knives back into his belt. "A trinket of some kind? A shiny bauble for your table?"

"With any luck," Lissa replied haughtily, "Lurlaine herself."

Lissa didn't wait for Page's reply, but went back toward her own people. She wasn't expecting Page to do anything that she herself wasn't willing to do. They had a castle to destroy and a Queen to depose.

***

Azkadellia certainly understood the protective urges that Callan and Della had toward her, but really, it was silly after a certain point. Here they were, the three of them alone in a pink travel bubble, and they were lecturing her on how to defend herself. They seem to have forgotten the Longcoat and Resistance fighters the Sorceress had taken in, that she had their skills at her disposal as well as the magic from her other selves. But she also understood their protective urges, the feeling that they were useless in the Mirror Zone. So she let them lecture her, nodding in all the right places and making all the appreciative noises they needed to hear. They plucked the memories to the forefront, at least. She didn't think that Lurlaine would do anything on a physical level, but she was prepared for it.

The castle was in ruins, smoking in some places and strewn with bodies in others. Some part of her nearly broke to see it. Our home, her other Practitioner selves moaned in dismay. That was our home once upon a time, we lived there. I still remember where my rooms were.

Thousands of years of history, demolished carelessly in less than day.

They arrived near the Ventra, though none of that mattered now. The forces had been an eerily effective ring around the Dawn Sanctuary, closing in tighter and tighter until they had come upon the castle itself. Many of the forces were inside, neck and neck with the palace guard.

_I call you, Lurlaine of the Dawn Sanctuary,_ Azkadellia began in the Old Speech, feeling the magic move through her and around her. Both of her tin men stepped back instinctively as an invisible wind seemed to ruffle through her. _I call on you, Lurlaine, sister of Elaine, daughter of Titania, granddaughter of Ataio. I call on you, and you _must_ answer me._

It was a furious thing, the pull of magic in her blood. She thought it would boil in her veins, rendering her dead on the spot. But the Practitioners within her exulted at the feel of it, the sheer sensation of unadulterated magic. We are home, they sang inside her head. At last, at last, we are where we belong.

A bubble seemed to rise from the smoking ruins of the castle. Instead of pink it was a pale lavender, just a shade more blue than the lavender of Azkadellia's mother's eyes. Her heart seized at the sight of it for an impossible moment. _Mother?_ she thought, but pushed it aside. It was silly. Her mother wasn't here. Her mother was just where she belonged, back in the OZ with DG at her side. Azkadellia was the one that didn't belong there anymore.

The bubble dissolved when it touched the ground in front of Azkadellia. Lurlaine was standing there, swathed in her full glory. Azkadellia could feel her deep anger and resentment as if it was a physical thing; the tin men each took a further step back instinctively. It was only their tie to Azkadellia that kept them from running in abject fear.

Azkadellia looked at Lurlaine in displeasure. "Your glamour won't work on me, Lurlaine," she said, annoyed. She could feel Callan and Della's terror in the back of her mind, and she reached out and _yanked_ on the terrible glamour enchanting Lurlaine's visage.

It slid from her easily, something that Lurlaine hadn't expected.

Now Lurlaine looked like herself. Before, she seemed otherworldly, eerily fae. She had long blonde hair that flowed in a straight wave from her head to her waist, held back by an ornate gold filigree crown. Her crystal blue eyes held no expression. She wore a simple white gown belted at the waist with a thick gold belt encrusted with jewels, and seemed impossibly young. Now her hair didn't seem to shine as bright, her blue eyes not as sharp and she didn't seem quite as young as she had before. There was nothing specific to point to, nothing more than a feeling, but she wasn't quite as eerie as before. Her expression was not as flat as it was before. There was almost a glimmer of fear in her eyes.

"Who are you?" she asked, eyes narrowing. "What are you?"

Cliara. Aliana. Azkadellia. Three-in-one.

But Azkadellia smiled without mirth, her expression one of barely controlled fury. "I am Lady Delia of the Silver Enclave. I've come for Ozma."

The glimmer of fear became full blown alarm. "That's impossible!" Lurlaine said, holding her hands out in a warding gesture. A whirlwind of air shot out, but it died down mere inches away from Azkadellia's face. "This cannot be!"

Azkadellia slammed her ebony walking staff down to the ground in front of her, the emerald at its top shining in the dim light from the overcast sky. Lurlaine flinched at the sight of it, hands still caught in that same warding sign. No wind came forth, not even a faint fluttering breeze to ruffle Azkadellia's hair.

The Practitioners caught within her laughed at Lurlaine's disquiet. Oh, how the mighty have fallen indeed, Cliara whispered with awful glee. Make her hurt, Aliana whispered in a voice like broken glass. Make her feel what we did.

There was something awful in Azkadellia's eyes, and Lurlaine shook her head at it. "Lady Delia is dead. She and the rest of the Silver Enclave are all dead. You're in imposter!"

The emerald seemed to glow, and Azkadellia's eyes carried the weight of magic throughout the millennia. It was a terrible kind of knowledge; her eyes were old, old, impossibly old even though the face containing them were young. They were the eyes of a creature that saw the rise and fall of entire civilazations, the eyes of a creature that brought death and destruction to a world for the sheer malicious joy of it.

"Your lies end this day, Lurlaine, false queen of the Dawn. This was not your land to rule, and those were not your people to kill," Azkadellia said, her voice ringing clear through the stillness around the two Practitioners.

Lurlaine's lips curled into something like a sneer. She was afraid, but she would not simply stand aside. "You'd have me stand aside for an idiot child?" she scoffed. "This land is better for me ruling it. I've brought peace and prosperity and order, and she simply flits through the harmony _I've_ created."

"You bought that peace with the blood of your kin and the innocent," Azkadellia intoned, feeling the magic rising within her. It was almost a presence in its own right, as if at any moment her physical body would fly apart and her magic would be let loose upon the world around her. She could feel Callan and Della's fear and concern and love in the back of her mind. That grounded her, that kept her from losing control. That control was tenuous, and it was as if she was holding on by her fingernails.

"There were no innocents," Lurlaine hurled back, fingers moving to create hand signs. "There were only traitors to the crown!"

Weaving. She was trying to weave magic around Azkadellia.

But the threads couldn't move past the ebony staff and the glow of its emerald. Ine'che had given the staff to Azkadellia, knowing only it was a defensive staff. She had thought it would help her walk around the castle, had thought it would keep her safe in the OZ. But emerald magic was ancient, powerful magic, and it also defended Azkadellia from thread magic.

"You were a traitor to your people and a traitor to your family. You have let greed and pride rule you, and you have stolen lives that were not yours to take." Azkadellia could feel the magic push against her skin, as if she was glowing from the inside out. Perhaps she was, by the look of abject horror on Lurlaine's face.

"This is not your place to condemn me!" Lurlaine snarled at Azkadellia. "One imposter cannot name me one, and you cannot destroy me!"

"I name you, Lurlaine of the Dawn, youngest daughter of Titania," Azkadellia began. The locket around her neck burned with a cold fire, and it was slowly lifting up and out of her bodice. The burnished gold was glowing, the O and Z clearly inscribed on its surface. "I name you as traitor to blood, stealing the very life from Ozma and condemning your cousins to a fate worse than death." Azkadellia felt her hand lift, pointing at Lurlaine in the very center of her forehead as the fairy queen stared at her locket in horror. "And for the third time, I name you Lurlaine of the Dawn, daughter of Titania. I name you as the orchestrator in the deaths of countless souls, fae and mortal alike, the direct cause of destruction against the innocent people of the very land your mother gave her life to save."

Lurlaine seemed so helpless on her own, no glamour swathing her figure or guards to back her up. The quiet menace that DG had experienced had been completely replaced by fear. "What are you?" she whispered, eyes welling up with tears. "Please, tell me. What are you?"

Three times she asked, and that compelled her to answer.

"I command ice and water and air," Azkadellia began, the words falling from her lips unbidden. She could feel the press of magic against her skin, and she felt close to bursting with it. Hold on, Cliara whispered. I've got you, Aliana crooned softly.

And there was Callan, struggling to rise from where he had fallen. _You're not leaving me, Delia,_ he thought, unable to get the words past his lips. _I'm not ready to let you go just yet._ Della couldn't raise his head, couldn't see past the hazy glow surrounding them. _Take her down, Delia,_ he told her, voice quiet and steady as if he was standing right beside her. _Make the bitch pay and end this._

"I am Cliara and Aliana of the White Wave. I am Azkadellia of the Outer Zone. I am the Three-in-One and _I condemn you for your crimes against your people."_

Before Lurlaine could even react, Azkadellia reached forward and grasped Lurlaine tightly. Her hands closed around Lurlaine's dainty neck, thumbs pressed tight against her windpipe. The ebony staff hovered to Azkadellia's right, but Lurlaine couldn't reach out to touch it. Her fingers slid over empty air, and she reached up to try and draw Azkadellia's hands away from her throat. But her fingers couldn't find purchase, as if slipping over ice that held a thin sheen of moisture over it. Her lungs burned with the force of the breath she couldn't release, the magic swirling up tight within her that she couldn't use.

And then Azkadellia breathed in. Deeply.

The magic was _ripped_ from her soul like a tangible thing, the floating locket pressed right up against her sternum and burning Lurlaine.

In horror, Lurlaine saw every last spell thread and soul ripped from its moorings within her, floating like a halo around Azkadellia's head. She dove in deeply, rending and shredding every last knot and loop and whorl, a flurry of threads in her wake.

Like a cloud, Ozma's magic hovered above them, growing larger and larger as Azkadella drove deeper down into Lurlaine's tattered soul. The locket continued to burn through Lurlaine, making an easy entry point for Azkadellia's lurid work.

When Lurlaine was reduced down to nothing – only Lurlaine, no magic, no extra bits of soul, nothing left but the virgin soul she had been born with – she felt like such a tiny insignificant thing, easily broken in Azkadellia's grip.

But Azkadellia let go and watched dispassionately as Lurlaine collapsed at her feet. The locket around her neck rose up to meet the swirling cloud that was Ozma's soul, collected several thousand times over. The loose, random bits of thread were gone; Azkadellia had effortlessly woven the lost pieces into herself even as she had shredded them out of Lurlaine. Some of the loose pieces knew that they belonged elsewhere, and floated on the magical winds to look for the original soul. Azkadellia let those go. But the lost bits, the fragile tattered pieces that belonged to dead bodies and fractured minds were kept.

Lurlaine looked up at Azkadellia, sobbing, hands at her mouth. "You can't leave me like this."

"You have no more magic. You can't harm anyone else now."

_"You can't leave me like this!"_ Lurlaine screeched.

"You're mortal," Azkadellia murmured, feeling the strain of the old magic within her. She felt close to collapse herself, and it was only the solid presence of Callan and Della behind her that kept her upright. "You're like everyone else now. Not eternal, not all powerful. Mortal."

"This is not possible..."

Azkadellia could fell the magic start to subside, slowly, reluctantly. The others were all around, drawn in by the bright light and the glowing halo above her. They were watching Lurlaine with large eyes and silent mouths, gawking at her misery. Lurlaine had been stripped of her magic, and she could only guess that somewhere inside of her it lay coiled and waiting, ready to strike out at someone. There was nowhere else for it to go.

"This isn't your kingdom to break anymore," Azkadellia told Lurlaine with a heavy sigh. "It's over. It's finished."

Lurlaine had gotten to her feet, and now her once beautiful face was marred by the cruel twist to her lips as she regarded Azkadellia. "I won't allow this."

"You have no power any longer."

But Lurlaine charged forward, hands outstretched as if to circle them around Azkadellia's throat. She only got two steps forward; both Callan and Della shot her. Lurlaine looked down at herself, at the bright blooms of blood forming on the crisp white of her dress. She looked up in dismay at Azkadellia, at the locket floating above them. "That thing should never have been given away," she gasped. "I should have known. I should have gotten it back."

"What is it?" Azkadellia asked, leaning on Callan heavily. Della was tightening her right hand around the ebony walking stick.

"The last piece of Ozma's original soul," Lurlaine whimpered, sinking to her knees. Her hands pushed at her chest, as if she could push the blood back into the holes there, as if she could reverse what was happening. "All she has left are conjured rags."

"It's time for her to take it all back," Azkadellia murmured. "It's her time now."

Lurlaine began to laugh. She could feel the press of the Shadow Brigade, the Unseelie Court and its allies from the Low Realms. She had thought them all too insignificant, too petty to be worth her time. She had courted the dragons and the griffins, the shapechangers and the elementals, all the powerful creatures. She hadn't thought ragtag idiots clinging to the edges of reality could do any real harm. She had thought that her magic would keep her safe, that the fear of her would keep anyone from trying a real rebellion.

She was wrong, horribly wrong, and her life was bleeding out through her clutched hands.

But the joke was on them if they thought Ozma could rule. The joke was on them if they thought that hazy cloud of magic in the air would help Ozma now. She was simply a figurehead, a puppet, nothing more than an empty doll to move about however the puppetmaster wanted to push her. She was nothing, a blank slate, little more than an idea.

Lurlaine looked up as the Low Realm leaders came closer. She saw the flash of Nightwalker teeth, thief's blades, rings on empty hands and the infected wound of a battle scarred troll. Other tribal leaders and the Shadow Brigade were behind them, waiting for their chance. Most might not last the night, if their wounds were anything to go by. But they were all going to outlive her, all going to surive at least the everlasting night that had descended on her dawning kingdom. She closed her eyes as the flashes came closer. She would not beg anymore; her cries would simply be something to mock further.

"We have to find Ozma," Azkadellia murmured, turning away from the sight of Lurlaine being ripped apart by her enemies.

She leaned heavily on her staff as she looked up at the floating locket within its hazy cloud of magic that Azkadellia had retrieved from Lurlaine. She couldn't understand why it wasn't looking for Ozma the way the other lost threads had looked for their owners. It simply floated there, as if confused, as if it wasn't sure what it should be doing next.

Something's not right, Cliara told her suddenly, sounding alarmed. I can't feel her at all, Aliana added. Where is our niece? Why can't we feel her?

Moving with energy she didn't feel, Azkadellia headed for the palace. Callan and Della were close at hand, watching carefully in case she collapsed from overexertion.

Without looking, she knew the cloud of Ozma's fragmented soul was following her as well.

Azkadellia didn't want to stop and think about why that might be. She had to find Ozma, had to figure out what had happened. Maybe Lurlaine had done something, maybe Lurlaine had altered or changed her somehow; not all magic could be reversed simply by killing the enchanter. Some spells had to be physically deconstructed by another Practitioner. Sometimes there had to be actual countercurses and further spellwork to do. It wasn't always as easy as unraveling a thread and pulling on it.

This way, Aliana whispered, guiding Azkadellia through the crumbling halls. I remember where her rooms were. They weren't too far from mine. She was always such a bright, shining child...

They all stopped short in front of the battered doorway. It looked as though a fire had raged through the suite. Cliara and Aliana screeched in horror, and Azkadellia reached out to open the door. The old magic was still present in her skin, and the door flaked to ash at her touch. It crumbled, flying apart in dark black dust motes. She pushed through the hazy cloud into the remnants of Ozma's suite.

"Lurlaine couldn't have done this," Della said, shaking his head. "Didn't you say she was important? That Ozma had to be alive?"

"Wait... Do you hear that?" Callan asked, cutting off Azkadellia's reply. He surged forward, dancing easily out of her grasp.

Yes, he moves just like a ghost, Cliara whispered. And he steps as lightly as one when he so chooses. There are no footprints in the ash.

Azkadellia followed without answering them. There was really no need to say anything. She stopped short when she crashed into Callan's back, and held onto him for balance. She could feel Della wedged tight against her, trying to see over their shoulders. And over their heads, the little cloud of Ozma's soul floated, centered around the little golden locket that she had once given DG and Azkadellia had meant to return.

Ozma was sitting in the middle of the burnt out room, unharmed. Her clothes were tattered cinders clinging to her form, and her hair was singed in places. There was the smell of ash and smoke and burnt flesh, but Ozma sat there with a blank expression on her face. She turned to face the three of them, eyes open and expectant. "Is my Auntie with you? Is it time for my potions yet? I don't feel altogether well."

"I've come to return something," Azkadellia managed to choke out. "Your—"

"Oh! That's right. I gave things away. I always gave such nice presents. I couldn't possibly ask for any of them back. That's what makes them presents."

Panic clutched at Azkadellia's heart even as the Practitioners within her mind shrank back in shock. This was not the Ozma that they knew. This didn't make sense to them at all. "Ozma," Azkadellia began slowly. "My sister had a locket of yours, and I have it now. But it's yours, and I'm here to return it to you. And I have your magic to return."

"Oh, but that's silly. I gave away all my magic to Dorothy."

They were simple words, spoken with the open faith of a young child. Azkadellia couldn't understand why she was so horrified by them. "But I'm giving it back to you."

"Oh, no. I don't want it anymore," Ozma said with an easy smile. "Auntie has such a hard time with her magic sometimes, and it doesn't look like fun at all. Oh, no. I gave it all away to Dorothy Gale. She can keep it."

"You gave my greatest-greatgrandmother some of your magic. You still have..."

Ozma's eyes sharpened almost dangerously for a fraction of a second, just enough to still Azkadellia's tongue. "I gave away all my magic," she said, her voice saccharine sweet and sickly sounding. "All the girls of Dorothy Gale's line have magic now. They will always have magic," she insisted, standing up. The burnt shreds of the fine gown she had been wearing fell away, revealing smooth skin. It didn't look like she had been sitting in the midst of a fire, but had simply gotten up from a bath. The suite, however, looked as though it had been caught by dragon fire, which seared through all the protective wards placed into the stones. Ozma smiled at the three of them, though her smile seemed vacuous and terrible all at once. "I have no magic. I gave all my magic to the girls of Dorothy Gale's line. And they will always have my magic, now and forever and ever. I will wander and travel and make wonderful friends, but they are the ones that will have the magic and the duties and the power and the trouble that goes with it."

Azkadellia could feel the magic in the room rise as Ozma spoke, could feel the determination in the vacant-looking girl. The sensation was almost as if she was drowning in magic, as if she was about to be utterly consumed by it.

And then the sensation snapped like a rubber band.

The world seemed to right itself at once, though Azkadellia could feel the press of magic still behind her eyes. "What have you done?" she whispered.

Without looking, she knew that the cloud hovering above her was gone. It had split, half of it disappearing from the Mirror Zone entirely. Somehow, she knew that half of it had gone straight to the OZ, straight to DG.

The other half had infused her, and she was wearing Ozma's locket.

Ozma smiled and went to the burnt out wardrobe across from the ruined bed. She opened the door and retrieved an intact dress from amongst the wreckage. She dressed quickly and efficiently, not seeming to care that three total strangers were in her room. "Well, no one seems to have any sense, you know. Some things will never change. Some things have to." She turned so that her back faced Callan. "Lace me up, please? I can't reach."

At a loss for what else to do, Callan pulled the laces tight and tied the corset back to the dress in a simple bow. "There. All done."

Ozma turned around, smiling. "Indeed, I am. I feel much better now, thank you. I hadn't been feeling very well recently. But now I'm ready to go traveling again."

She passed the three of them easily, and disappeared into the empty hallways of the castle.

"Delia? What the fuck just happened?" Callan blurted abruptly.

"I... I think she just abdicated."

Della picked up the locket, lying heavily around Azkadellia's neck. "I think she just made you Queen of the Dawn Sanctuary instead of her."

***  
***


	17. Unraveling The Resistance

When she came to, DG was tired and sore and entirely too disgruntled for words. She was lying on the floor, her wrists and ankles bound, a gag in her mouth. For a moment, she thought she was glowing, which made no sense at all, and thought perhaps it was because of the blow to her head when she was swung about.

_Fuck._

It all came back with startling clarity. She had been approached by not-Glitch, who then attacked her. And it was probably the spy in the castle, or the one working with the spy in the castle. She wouldn't be harmed seriously, then, because Siba would need her alive for whatever it was that he was planning. That was hardly a comfort; she knew all too well that there were plenty of things that could be done that didn't involve her death.

Still, she grit her teeth around the gag. She had magic. She could throw a good punch, even the captain of the guard had said so. DG didn't intend to go down fighting, and she would claw the bastard's eyes out if she had to.

That fuzzy glow beneath her skin grew in intensity; now she _knew_ she was glowing, and that was just freaking weird.

But the ropes and their complicated knots were gone, and she could easily push herself up to a sitting position to remove the gag. She didn't feel as sore as she had even a moment ago, and she could take better stock of the situation.

DG was in some kind of room with a dirt floor and dirt walls. The ceiling consisted of boards, with some straw poking through. She assumed she was in the dirt cellar of a cottage, though she couldn't recall if any cottages like this existed within the city walls. She had done a brief tour of the countryside, but hadn't gone into the really dingy neighborhoods within Central City. The castle guards and all of the Tin Men had resisted the idea when she first posed it, scandalized that their precious princess would want to see such lowly places.

She kicked at the wall, lips compressed in unhappiness. Stupid rules and stupid laws and stupid walls that kept her from seeing where she was. Dirt fell out of the wall in clumps, and DG remembered how the ice prison had been scuffed by her kick. She knew she felt out of sorts somehow, like all the pieces of her mind didn't quite slot into place. She assumed it was the blow to the head, that she had a concussion of some kind. She heard the guards talking about that, knew it could be a serious problem if left unattended.

She took a breath to steel herself. She had to pull herself together somehow, make the pieces fit back together where they should be. It was like pulling in the magic with in, keeping it close and under control the way Ine'che and Ataio had taught her. Just thinking of them calmed her, and she kept with her deep breathing. It helped her stay calm, and she thought that perhaps she was starting to pull it together a bit better. She was surprised, that was all. She was in this weird place with no way out. It wasn't a coffin, after all. She wasn't expected to be dead.

Hm. That reminded her.

DG looked up at the ceiling and carefully inspected it. It was a floor of some kind, but no one appeared to be actually standing or sitting on it. It didn't sound as if anyone was actually even in the house at the moment.

Pleased, DG began to create a ladder that would let her climb up and push the floorboards aside. Or blast them. She wasn't terribly picky about that.

If no one knew where she was to rescue her, she was damn well going to rescue herself.

***

The castle was in an uproar. Bad enough there was a traitor in the ranks somewhere, and he still hadn't been found. _Or she,_ Cain amended to himself. DG would likely kick him in the shins if she thought he wasn't being fair. Women could be powerful and sneaky as well. The spy could very well be a woman, since sheer strength wouldn't be necessary. Still, Cain thought of the spy as a man, based on the description that White had given him. It didn't make sense for Siba to have a large network of spies within the castle; it was more likely that he had sent out a man or two in order to find any corrupt men and begin to make chinks in the castle defenses. That way, an arrogant Siba would find it easier to take over the crown.

Cain paced, ignoring the shouts in the hallways easily. It was rather like being back in the pens at Central City's main offices. Men shouted at each other, demanded new information and generally made nuisances of themselves for lack of anything better to do. There were a handful of guards he suspected, and White had been forthcoming about what to look for once his belly was full of food and his pockets lined with money. He was looking into each of their backgrounds carefully; it wouldn't do to openly charge a guard with treason if he didn't have to. Even if a man was innocent, that sort of thing clung to a record. Not to mention that it might instill resentment in an honest man, and any resentful man was more likely to turn a blind eye toward misdeeds.

This was why he initially resisted becoming one of DG's generals. It wasn't worth the headache in personnel and strategizing. Not to mention, he missed actually doing his damn job as a tin man, rather than waiting for bureaucratic nonsense.

"General Cain!" called a voice from down the hall.

Well, there was no putting off dealing with the men any longer. He would have to think about the castle guard spy later. Hopefully it would involve wrapping his hands around Siba's neck and breaking it, but he would likely have to have a full trial first.

Cain went into the gathering hall with the rest of the castle guards and the remnants of the army still in Central City. "Lieutenant," he acknowledged with a nod. "What is it?"

"The Princess is missing. We can't find her anywhere in the castle, and there's a missive specifically addressed to her from Gli- Advisor Ambrose."

Cain ignored the Lieutenant's slip of the tongue. Plenty of people still made that mistake because DG still called Ambrose by that name. He reached his hand out and took the missive in the Lieutenant's hands. "What do you mean she's missing?" he asked in a dangerously controlled voice. He was already agitated by the spy business; this was going to send him over the edge, he knew it.

"She isn't anywhere. We've searched her rooms, her audience chambers, all of the grand galleries, even looked into her sister's rooms... The Princess Azkadellia is missing as well, though we..." The Lieutenant had the grace to look uncomfortable with what she was about to say. "Our priority is for the Crown Princess, sir."

"As it should be. Azkadellia was moved to a more secure location," Cain lied. It was the first thing that came to mind, and he would have to remember to tell DG about it. "With this news about spies among our rank, we couldn't be sure of her safety."

The Lieutenant looked relieved. "Very good, sir. We have some of the other men looking in all the corridors of the palace, even in the servants' quarters. We haven't found the Crown Princess yet, and this doesn't bode well. Especially given there's a spy..."

The knot in Cain's stomach tightened. He had been hoping that DG was simply off somewhere, as she did sometimes. But the more the Lieutenant kept repeating that DG was missing, the more agitated she looked. And the more agitated she looked, the tighter the knot in Cain's stomach grew. DG going missing never was a good sign. Trouble followed in her wake, not always of her own doing, but disaster was looming.

Once this war was over, he was going to shake her until her teeth rattled. Or she saw sense. Whichever of the two came first.

Just as Cain was about to open his mouth to issue an order, one of the foot soldiers burst through the door into the hall. "Sir!" he called out to one of the junior lieutenants. "There's a body in one of the servants' hallways."

Cain tightened his jaw. "Take me to it," he said in clipped tones. The guards weren't trained investigators, and there was no time to find someone else at Central City's station that he trusted with DG's life.

He didn't recognize the servant pinned to the wall, but he let out a soft sigh of relief that it wasn't DG. He observed the placement, trying to remember if he had any cases resembling it. He looked to see if were any marks that might identify the killer, that might determine why she had been killed and placed in such an obvious location. She had been violated, but this was more than just murder to cover up a rape. That could be accomplished by more conventional means, and he had seen plenty of those in the darker corners of Central City.

"What do we know about this girl?" Cain asked one of his lieutenants.

"Just one of the kitchen staff. She went missing two days ago after being sent to fetch things back to the kitchens by the head cook."

More like a killing of opportunity. Cain carefully looked at all of the wounds on the poor girl's body, looking for anything at all that might identify the killer. Was it their castle spy? Had the poor girl stumbled across the guard they suspected in a compromising position?

Cain straightened and looked at his lieutenants. "Do we have any Viewers nearby? Perhaps they could find a memory of who did this."

"There aren't any in the castle, sir," one of his lieutenants said. "There's Raw, but he's to the south with the army defending the fields..."

He was with the Shadow Brigade. Cain hadn't thought of them, of the odd talents any of their number might have. Cain nodded at his lieutenant and pressed the charm that DG had made so that he could call on Tasi.

The Shadow Brigade general appeared not long after, becoming partially solid. Cain didn't know the Old Speech, and wouldn't have been able to speak with the general any other way. "You have need of assistance within the castle?" Tasi asked, surprised.

Cain nodded. "This girl was killed probably two days ago, and DG went missing earlier this morning. I'm not sure if that's connected. Perhaps the girl saw the spy we're trying to track down, perhaps this is unconnected. But I need to know if any of the Shadow Brigade would have Viewer skills. I need to know what happened to this girl."

Tasi smiled, something uncomfortable and full of teeth. "I could, perhaps. But you will not like how I will have to discover your answer."

"What do you mean?"

"I will need to become her to access her memories." At Cain's blank look, Tasi coughed delicately. "I will need to devour her and absorb her substance."

Surprise and disgust warred for Cain's response to this statement. "Whatever you need to do," he said finally. He couldn't allow tin men into the palace for this murder, and he couldn't allow anyone but the most trusted palace guards to know about the existence of a spy.

Cain cleared the area as Tasi took the girl down from the wall with care. The palace guards were only too glad to leave; they were used to crowd control duties and turning away unruly citizens, not investigating murder and mayhem.

Cain turned away as Tasi began to devour the body. He saw a flash of a dark shadow enveloping what was left of the girl, the skin sizzling as if it was being broken apart piece by piece and then digested. For all that he had been through, this was likely to give him nightmares.

He tried to corral his thoughts. They knew of Benton as a definite suspect, but that was on the word of a small street kid. There was no proof tying Benton to anything. There was even less to go on for Lisdel, Tolono and Kittredge. There had to be other ties somewhere, something he was missing because of the larger war that DG had waged.

"Sir?" came a soft voice behind him.

Cain turned and saw the servant girl standing there, open wounds in various places. Even as he watched, they closed themselves up and resealed, becoming whole and untouched skin. "Who are you?" he asked, brows furrowed.

"Sorai, sir," she said, bobbing a curtsey. "One of the kitchen maids."

"How are the memories, Tasi? Do you have the ones we need?"

The smile on the girl's face was sinister and discomfiting. "And many more, besides. We hadn't thought of using the kitchen staff as spies. They see all sorts of things the rest of us don't."

"All right. For the moment, just focus on the girl's death. Who was it?"

The description didn't match anyone that Cain knew of. He frowned and watched Tasi walk back and forth in Sorai's body. "That's... Disturbing," Cain said after a moment, shaking his head.

"He carried a strange knife," Tasi-Sorai commented, her mouth pulling down into a frown. "He used it to cut open my skirts. I hadn't seen anything like it before."

The description of that blade was only too familiar for Cain. "There are rival thieving gangs in the Sin District," Cain muttered. "That's the kind of blade one of those gangs use."

Tasi-Sorai frowned even more deeply. "Well, that's distressing. It isn't necessarily a spy issue..."

"No, it is. For one of those would-be thieves to wind up in the palace at the same time that DG goes missing? It's too much of a coincidence. I don't believe in coincidences at all. I'm thinking that one of those thieves managed to get himself hired on as a spy. And it's too much of a coincidence that White saw a similar blade kill Mannon at the West Gate."

Tasi reverted back to shadow form. "So this blade I remember now... This will be our link to the spy and to our lost Unseelie Queen?"

Cain nodded. "I think so. DG is too valuable to be killed, and they're thinking of how much gold they can get for her."

Tasi growled in anger. "Our Queen is not to be bought and sold like chattel."

"On that point, we agree. You look where you can for that knife, and I'll ask around my old Tin Min contacts. We'll find her, I'm sure of it."

Cain watched Tasi disappear into shadows, and then he headed out of the palace himself. He had to find DG before word got out she was missing. It would break the spirit of her people, and then it would give Siba all he needed to win the war.

Siba in charge didn't bear thinking about.

***

Those of the Vantage Club prized themselves on being opportunists of the first rank, as well as thieves and killers. They had showy, edged knives to mark them apart from the upstart Catseye Gang, who simply had little eye charms to wear. They were the two top rival thieves' guilds in the Sin District, each believing the other gang to be the nonentity threatening their domination of the District. The Catseye Gang tended to take on the smarter people, those known for a fair eye to get at the mark. The Vantage Club wasn't above incredibly flashy displays by those wanting to be members. Their members were more violent, and their territory was guarded jealously.

The members also tended to war amongst themselves.

Tasi slid along the floors and walls, just another shadow amongst many. It was easy enough to slide in amongst Vantage Club members; they were sloppy with security, sure that tales of their vicious deeds would keep all but the most stupid away from them. So Tasi was able to come in close, looking for the face that matched the man from Sorai's memories.

And he was standing to the side, arms crossed over his chest, glowering at a younger man that was daring to challenge his assessment of the Crown Princess' worth to Lord Siba. The two men had been hired on by Lord Siba prior to the nobleman's exit from Central City, and they were desperate to leave the Sin District. They had come from the Low Country – Sorai had been from there originally, and recognized the traces of accent – and were certain they could elevate themselves into something larger and greater. Noble greed would buy their way to this end, and they had no sense of loyalty to the Crown.

This angered Tasi more than anything else, and the Shadow Brigade General swept down and enveloped the two men. Dissolving them from the outside in was no work at all, and Tasi easily absorbed their distasteful memories.

The older thief had fondled the Crown Princess as she lay unconscious, wondering if he could get away with more. He hadn't known about her relationship with her General, and thought that she would fetch a larger sum if pure. The younger man wasn't interested in females, so the Crown Princess was safe from his attentions.

But when Tasi went to the hideout that the older thief had used, the floorboards were already disturbed, and the dirt basement was empty.

The Crown Princess was gone.

***

Cain had gone to visit his old Captain, who was not terribly impressed with the titles that had been heaped on his head. That was fine with him; Cain wasn't terribly impressed with them either. The two men were talking about developments in the Sin District in recent months when the shadows in the room grew thick and heavy. "I think that's our friend," Cain said.

One of the shadows half solidified into Tasi's familiar form. "Yes, General. The thieves that had stolen our Crown Princess have been neutralized. However, she has already gone missing from their hiding spot."

Cain rose to his feet. "Someone else kidnapped her?"

"No sign of that. It seemed more likely that she escaped herself."

Cain had to grin at that. "That's my girl," he said to himself. The Captain's eyebrow rose toward his hairline, but Cain wasn't about to clarify the statement. "So she'll turn up at the palace sooner or later. Your men have been looking for her, of course."

"Of course," Tasi said, a trifle irritated. "However, we can't find her."

"That makes no sense."

"What doesn't?"

Everyone in the office turned at the sound of DG's voice. She was standing there dressed in dirty, torn clothing and looking for all the world like another member of the Sin District that the Tin Men were trying to put into prison. She smiled at Cain's shock, blue eyes twinkling almost mischievously. "What? Did I overdo the disguise?"

Cain swept her up into his arms and kissed her thoroughly. Then he pulled back and grasped her shoulders. "Are you all right? Really all right?"

"Yeah," she said with a nod. "I got a big crack on the back of the head, but that's about it as far as I can tell. I figured I would just have to save myself."

"How, though? You were gone what? A day?"

DG lifted her palm and rolled her eyes at Cain as it glowed softly. "Magic."

"Well, the men involved are taken care of, Tasi says," Cain said. The shadow in question bowed generously in DG's direction.

"Benton was the contact for the elder thief. He will need to be apprehended right away. The younger had heard of Kittredge, but I'm not sure what capacity that was in."

DG stretched. "You know, after this recent mess? I don't really feel like doing things the way I should." She looked over at the confused Captain. "No offense."

The Captain was too nonplused to respond, so he merely nodded at her.

"I say we haul them all in for questioning. We have enough to get Benton on trial, maybe this Kittredge person. The other two might buckle under pressure. We don't know, but I'm not going to stand around anymore and just wait for shit to keep happening. I have enough going on right now and I really hate standing around doing nothing."

Tasi nodded. "Your wish is my command, my Queen."

The Captain looked even more confused by that, and Cain sighed at him. "Long story."

DG looked brightly at everyone. "So let's go catch our spies, shall we?"

It was easier said than done, of course. But the four suspected West Gate guards were rounded up for questioning under the Crown Princess' orders, each in a separate area to be questioned by those guards that were trusted by the Crown. Benton tried to bluff his way through, but his crimes had proof behind the claim. He surrendered his freedom without a further fight and was escorted to the dungeons to await trial. It was likely that he would eventually be executed for committing treason against the Crown.

Kittredge admitted to taking bribes from thieves to go in and out of the gates to evade capture by the Justicars, but otherwise denied treasonous actions. Lisdel denied everything he was asked, and didn't offer anything in questioning. Tolono refused to speak from the outset.

After nearly a week of this, DG was fed up. There was fighting in the outlying counties, the blockade continued with minor skirmishes within each county and the southern famlands continued to be safe. She just wanted this _over,_ and finally let her frustration show to Cain and the other guards. "I'm going to question them. There has to be some kind of truth-telling spell I can cast on them to make them talk."

"That violates their rights, DG," Cain explained. "You can't just circumvent the law because it annoys you."

"I thought that was the point of being Queen?"

Cain resisted the urge to cover his face with his hands. This was just DG being DG, impetuous and unafraid. "No, the point of being Queen is to set down recommendations and policy, and then the legislature debates the policies before the actual decrees are crafted. Then you agree or disagree, and they become the law of the OZ that the Tin Men uphold. You don't just make it up as you go along."

"What are the rules regarding traitors, then?" she asked, voice a little more subdued. "Do they still have all of the same rights as citizens that do the right thing?"

"They're treated fairly until the trials have them declared a traitor. Then they're executed."

"So even if they want to kill me, if they want Siba on the throne, I can't do anything?"

"That's right." Cain pulled her into an embrace at the sight of her distraught expression. "We'll get to the bottom of this, Deeg. Trust me. It'll work. You have to trust that the system works, that this will get handled."

"It takes too long," DG whined.

DG also had too many things to worry about. Was Azkadellia all right? Were Raw and Glitch okay? Were the efforts at the blockade breaking the rebellion? Were the skirmishes more serious than the guards were telling her? Was the spy going to kill her outright? Was Ine'che all right? Did she make a decision? Was her mother going to put together the Wedding of Doom? Did she really have this princess thing down?

Cain kissed the center of her forehead. "You go to bed, all right? I'll send a guard to stand outside your rooms, just to be sure. I'll be up to join you as soon as I can."

DG snorted. "I wish _their_ lives were as disrupted as mine is. Aren't they married, some of them? You'd think they'd want to go home and be with them again."

Family ties. It was the sort of thing that Cain hadn't considered. He had assumed that the four guards had all acted alone, or maybe with each other. He hadn't considered that maybe Lisdel and Tolono had nothing to say under questioning because it wasn't their own lives they were protecting, but someone else's. It was worth a shot.

Lisdel continued to deny everything, but Tolono had gone after Cain with a vengeance once the former Tin Man asked what his family members thought of his incarceration. Cain threw a vicious right hook at Tolono, catching the man in the nose and breaking it. Cain stood over the fallen guard's form. "Who is it? Who's the traitor you're protecting?"

"You filthy animal," Tolono spat, "Nothing but an upstart hanging off a Slipper's coattails. You don't know—"

A vicious kick silenced him, and Cain squatted beside Tolono, his gun cocked and ready to fire at the former guard. "I'll ask one more time. Who are you protecting?"

"You can't do this. You can't hurt me."

"Interrogations are tricky things, you know. Especially when the prisoners are so uncooperative," Cain said, a thin smile on his face. "You never know what desperate thing they'll try, if they'll hurt themselves, if they will attack the inquisitor and force the guard's hand..." Tolono paled at the implication. "So it pays to be cooperative."

"That's illegal."

"Well, this is your choice, still. Better than compulsion spells, don't you think?" Cain asked.

Tolono took in Cain's expression, the gun aimed at his head and the fact that there was no one else in the room and hadn't been for days. "I have a family..."

"And so does the Crown Princess," Cain replied coldly. "You dishonor your family if you turn traitor to the Crown."

"My daughter's sick," Tolono replied, licking his lips nervously. "And my wife is useless, can't do anything. So she hears that there might be money to be made at the West Gate. A few bribes here, some medicine, some information to barter... My daughter's sick," he repeated, his voice rising in panic when Cain pushed his gun into Tolono's forehead. "My daughter's sick and the noblemen had money! All I had to do was send letters! That's it!"

"What was in those letters?"

"Guard rotations, who could be bribed, where the regimens were moving to... I haven't been answered since the blockade. I don't know if they even got through," Tolono added desperately, shaking his head. "It was my wife's idea, you understand. She's the one that wrote them, she's the one that sent them out. She's the one that collected the money..."

Cain stood up and put the safety back on his pistol. "You will be tried and found guilty for treason. Your wife will be brought in for questioning, then tried and found guilty for treason. You will both be executed as traitors to the Crown. Is there next of kin to send your daughter to?" he asked, voice hard and edged.

"There's no one," Tolono said, turning his face away in shame. "She only has us."

His disgust for the fallen guard was palpable. "If you had told any one of us about your daughter, we would have helped. We would've been family. You dishonor the uniform."

Cain left the room and had Tolono's wife brought in. The daughter was no more than six, her legs crippled. She had weak lungs, but by her account was good with a needle and thread. It was easy enough to get her installed with the housekeeping staff making napkins and tablecloths and repairing tapestries. She was also going to be taught simple arithmetic and reading along with the other servant children. The girl would do well in the castle, away from the damp and drafty house that Tolono had been living in.

Cain sighed as he stood outside of the suite he shared with DG. He had gotten so caught up with tracking down Tolono's wife and getting the daughter situated, he never actually went to the suite to sleep. It was almost a full day since he had seen her, and he hadn't even asked about how she was doing. There simply hadn't been time.

DG was sprawled across the bed, her sketchbooks in hand and Ine'che sitting beside her. The wyvern had her hair up in some kind of knotted, intricate form that DG was sketching. The two of them were surrounded by sketches of wyverns. Apparently, DG had found a way to occupy herself while he was busy.

Both looked up as Cain came in. He was bone tired, and had told his lieutenants and Tasi not to wake him on pain of death.

"I can retire and return at a later time," Ine'che murmured. "These are all beautiful," she told DG, helping to collect all of the sketches. "Just the way I remember them."

DG grinned at Ine'che and put the sketches aside. "You never got to bed last night."

Cain didn't bother to strip off his uniform. "I'm going now," he said as he fell face first onto the bed. He let his eyes fall shut as DG began unbuckling and untying bits of the uniform. "We got him, though. The other spy. Lisdel was the only one not corrupt out of the four, but even that we're not entirely sure of. And we don't know if there's more."

DG sighed and curled up next to Cain on the bed. "Sure we can't run away somewhere, just you and me?" she asked wryly. "My mother can stay the Queen..."

"Then the war would last forever."

"Yeah. She's not too keen on making the kind of decisions we needed to make," DG agreed with a sigh. "But it'll be over soon, right?"

"The last thing is the blockade, really. Even the rebellions at the outer edges of the kingdom aren't as bad as they used to be. I suspect it should be over soon."

"Good," DG murmured, curling into his warmth. "I want to start the happy bits of our happily ever after."

He couldn't agree with her more.

***  
***


	18. A Question of Fealty

"I can't be Queen," Azkadellia said in horror.

She was standing just outside of Ozma's ruined quarters, the weight of the locket heavy and cold against her chest. It was just sinking in now; Ozma left, giving up her magic yet again to travel and be a figurehead for the Mirror Zone crown. She willingly let herself become a puppet, giving up any claim to the throne.

But Azkadellia didn't want it. She _couldn't_ want it, _shouldn't_ want it.

Della looked at her pale face in concern, and Callan went through his belongings to see if he still had his canteen with him. "Delia, you'll be all right," Della told her gently.

"I can't do this," Azkadellia told him, eyes wide and terrified. "I can't. I _can't."_

Callan gave up on the water and handed her the flask tucked into his jacket. "Here. Drink up." He smiled at her and avoided Della's glare. "What? A little liquid courage might do the trick to snap her out of it."

Azkadellia downed as much of it as she could in a single gulp, coughing and sputtering afterward. "That tastes awful."

"Yeah, well, rotgut alcohol isn't known for the taste," Callan replied, taking the flask back.

"We don't need a drunk Delia," Della hissed at him.

"Sure we do," Callan disagreed. "You know why she's freaking out." He took Azkadellia's arm gently, stroking the back of her hand. "You know we'll be with you, right, Delia? We're not leaving you to do this alone."

Her eyes watering, Azkadellia looked between the two of them. "But I can't do this. I can't rule this place. I _can't."_

Della's reply was cut off by the sound of running feet over the stone floors of the palace. "We'll talk about this later, love," he murmured, brushing his lips across her cheek. "We'll figure this out together, you know we will."

The feet belonged to Page, and he stopped short once he saw them. "Well? Have you found her, then? The Ozma? Have you found her?"

Azkadellia saw the blood on the back of his hand, spattered on his shirt. She knew that he would have cared for his blades, but his clothing didn't warrant the same kind of care to a thief. "I..."

"Things went pear-shaped," Callan interjected, his hand on her elbow. "We should talk with the others, I think."

"The throne room wasn't damaged, was it?" Della asked.

"What are you doing?" Azkadellia hissed just as Page shook his head and answered "Still full of jewels and marble. I can't even pry out one."

"Get the others," Della told Page. "Have them meet us in the throne room. We'll be down in a moment and tell everyone what happened. That way, it only has to be told once."

Page nodded and raced off. Azkadellia looked at the two tin men in horror. "What are you doing?" she repeated, staring at them incredulously.

"You're Queen of the Dawn Sanctuary now," Della told her in a soft tone. "You know you are."

"I _can't_ be. This isn't my place and these aren't my people!"

Callan slid his hand along the back of her neck, her dark hair falling down on the other side of his hand. "Exactly. So they don't know about the Sorceress. There's nothing here to make them believe the worst in you. There's nothing there to make them think this is a trick. You can start over, be the Queen you were meant to be before the Sorceress possessed you."

She shook her head, not believing her ears. It wasn't so simple. She had been possessed, but it wasn't as if she hadn't had _some_ control at times. Sometimes she had come up with ideas, or remembered things that the Sorceress had used.

I'm sorry, Aliana told her gently. It was my fault you fear the throne now. I did this to you.

Azkadellia pressed the heels of her hands into her closed eyes. "This isn't right. I shouldn't be doing this. I shouldn't be here."

"But the other souls," Della murmured, rubbing her shoulders. He and Callan were standing on either side of her, blocking her view of the blasted corridor. "They belong here. Aren't they related to Ozma? Don't they have a right to the throne?"

A choked sob escaped Azkadellia as she nodded. "I can't... I don't know if I can."

Callan pressed his lips against her temple. "We'll be with you. I'll stay here with you. I don't need some baronetcy in the OZ."

Della chuckled. "That fool as a baron? What was your sister thinking?"

Azkadellia let out a startled laugh that sounded more like a hiccup. "She meant well."

"Now, _I_ could probably be a baron," Della continued with a smile. "But someone's gotta watch over the both of you. So it looks like I'll be sticking around, too."

Azkadellia slung an arm around the both of them. "You both are the only reason why I'm not insane right now. The magic was so much..."

"We could feel it," Callan murmured against her temple. "We knew." His hand slid down from her neck to the small of her back. "C'mon, Delia. Time to meet your public."

Still hesitant and unsure, Azkadellia led the way to the throne room. She was the Three-In-One, and had unraveled Queen Lurlaine. She had taken on the name of Lady Delia of the Silver Enclave as if it was a pretty dress to wear, and this land knew nothing of the Sorceress that Azkadellia had been. She could do this. She could be the Queen if she had to be, but she really didn't want to. She hadn't shed her guilt yet, hadn't figured out a way to deal with the complicity she had hidden from the public in the OZ.

"What's the meaning of this?" Lissa asked, her eyes flashing and her teeth seeming sharper than ever. "What's going on?"

Azkadellia looked over the group of them. It was a much smaller group than before; the golems returned south, Hani, the Ventra and a number of Shadow Brigade generals were dead. So many people dead or dying outside, and Azkadellia couldn't help but feel somewhat responsible. _It wasn't my war, but it's still my fault. I'm the one that convinced them,_ she thought grimly.

"Ozma left. She's... You called her a puppet, Lissa, but somehow she's something even worse than that. She left and has no interest in ruling. She had no interest in taking back her own magic when I offered it to her." Her hand unconsciously closed over the locket hanging heavily around her neck, the O and Z engraving flaring to life beneath her palm.

Taking a deep breath, Azkadellia looked up. "She left me Queen of the Mirror Zone."

The entire room had gone painfully silent.

"You're... not kidding," Lissa murmured after a moment.

"This is preposterous," Page muttered, shaking his head. "None of mine are going to recognize such a thing."

"We don't need you," Goren hissed at the thief. "Take the rest of your men and return to the Low Realms. Your services are over, already bought and paid for."

Azkadellia rubbed the side of her face tiredly. It had been a long day, she was exhausted and the petty squabbling that was about to erupt was already making her feel worse.

The Unseelie Court would pledge fealty just because she was DG's sister. The remnants of the Seelie Court would be angry, would hunt her down in retaliation for killing Lurlaine. Or allowing her to be killed, Azkadellia couldn't tell which. The people at large wouldn't necessarily care; politics was too far beyond their day to day concerns. She had stopped the Wheelers from attacking the countryside, and they were likely allies as well.

She sank down into the throne, Callan and Della standing on either side of her. "It's done, no matter what any of us says about it," Azkadellia began tiredly. "Whether you like it or not, Ozma has no intention of ruling and left me in charge. We just have to deal with it now."

Lissa laughed and came forward. "Well, I for one find an alliance with the Dawn might be a good one. It's served us well so far."

Mattoon wheeled up beside Lissa. "My people are indebted to you. My brother found the servants' quarters and the dungeons, and many of our women and children are still there. Our families can be whole now."

Page stomped off as the others assembled in the room began pledging fealty to Queen Azkadellia of the Mirror Zone. Horrified, Azkadellia could do nothing else but accept.

The locket was heavy against her chest, feeling almost as constricting as her corsets used to be. Goren found a heavy coronet in the throne room, a more convoluted item than the one Lurlaine usually wore. It was her special occasion crown, apparently.

Goren put it on her head, and it was a heavy weight, almost crushing her down into the throne.

"Long live Queen Azadellia of the Dawn Sanctuary!" Goren boomed in the throne room.

It was all she could do not to cry when the others began to cheer.

***

Ine'che stopped by DG's quarters at her usual time for lessons and politely knocked on the door. She had conversation with Ataio many times over the past weeks, though never alone and not about anything of import. She suspected that was DG's doing, just to be sure Ine'che was comfortable with her decision to remain in human form.

So she was startled when Ataio opened the door, a look of concern on his face. "You're having her bring back wyverns?"

Ine'che frowned at him and entered the suite. "Is DG here? I can return at a later time if this is inconvenient for you."

Ataio grasped her arm tightly, spinning her around to face him. "Dammit, don't pretend we're strangers, child. Don't insult either of our intelligences."

Ine'che shook off his grip. "She requested designs based on wyverns I had known. She plans to make automatons. Clockwork creatures, rather like the ones at Milltown. What did you think she was planning to do? Create abominations from the dead?"

He had the grace to look ashamed. "Most mortals think of foolish things like that. My Ozma is little more than that, after all."

She rested her hand on his chest, over where a human heart would be. "Not all things born from shadows and grief are evil, Ataio."

He smiled at her and closed his hand on top of hers. "Just so. Even I can forget this truth." He leaned his head to touch his forehead to hers. "Are you well? I haven't been able to ask. Our pupil seems to think herself a chaperone."

Ine'che felt laughter bubble up inside of her. The Queen had suggested as much initially, though the Queen's notions of propriety were old fashioned even among the OZ populace. "She seeks only to protect us from ourselves."

"Did I hurt you much?" he asked, concerned. "I assumed it would be all right..."

"I've already mentioned that," Ine'che murmured. "I've already made my choices."

"I see that," he replied softly, his hand pressing hers tighter against his chest. "I did not lie when I told you of my intentions."

"DG is quite protective," Ine'che said, her lips twitching into a smile. "I believe it takes her mind off of the current political situation. And she's not overly fond of her mother's love of pink."

Ataio couldn't help but laugh. He slid his other hand along the back of her neck, pleased to see her shiver in pleasure. "It might be interesting due to her coloring. But no, I don't imagine she would be pleased with such a thing." He curled his fingers around the back of her neck, the tips pressed along the corded muscle there. "I think our princess inherited much more than any of us had bargained for, even if we did not wish to acknowledge it. I did not want to bring up the possibility in front of her, but part of her feels familiar to me."

"Ozma," Ine'che guessed. "The girl had done many strange things during our travels in the Mirror Zone."

"That creature is no longer of my blood. But yes, the magic within DG does feel like Ozma. I fear that DG's involvement with the Mirror Zone is over now."

"What do you mean?"

"She wished to place Ozma on the throne. But such things are games; Ozma is a revenant, not a person any longer. Such a creature would not be able to rule, could not even begin to handle the responsibilities that it would entail."

Ine'che thought of the party that had traveled between the Zones, of DG's sister, who had deep down been utterly terrified of her own past. "Azkadellia, then."

"I haven't told DG yet what I suspect has happened. She's been busy trying to infiltrate a network of spies and determine if the blockade has succeeded."

"We could assist, possibly. The armies are elsewhere engaged," Ine'che began. "We could move through the blockade and observe the counties for ourselves."

Ataio smiled, his hands tightening over her body fractionally in a possessive move. "I am glad we are in agreement."

Her smile was slow but genuine. "I cannot fly, unfortunately. Not in my wyvern form. Perhaps you would be so kind as to be my transport?"

"Flight?" Atiao's eyes twinkled mischievously. "Ine'che, I am the oldest form of magic there is. I can do what I wish, however I wish and whenever I wish it. Name the county, and we'll be there before you take your next breath."

Green Harbor was the only one that mattered. Ine'che's smile was almost feral. "Let us see what Lord Siba has been doing in his absence. Then we can put DG's mind to rest."

"Done."

Ine'che blinked, and they were standing in the grand courtyard of Lord Siba's castle. The skies were darkened due to the Shadow Brigade's blockade, and the unholy wails from the harbor was like the sound of nails on a chalkboard. Most of the flora in the area seemed to be wilted and dying, unless it was the kind that preferred perpetual shadow. There were quite a number of shadow blossoms lining the garden boxes, choking out the other flowers that were dying. Ine'che looked to the castle, and couldn't sense people bustling in it the way they were at the castle in Central City. That castle always had movement and life and purpose. This casle was listless and silent, waiting for the sun to rise again.

"We need to see Siba himself," Ine'che remarked. "He needs to surrender before all of his people are dead."

Ataio nodded and looped his arms around her. His form shifted so that he had large wings to lift them up to the tallest tower of the castle. The surrounding fields were cultivated but faltering, with no hope of harvest. They were dying slowly, the feeble light making it impossible for them to grow. Animals dotted some fields, but they were lethargic and hovering near death. The people were starving, slaughtering animals or each other for lack of food. With the people killing each other for the dwindling resources, it was only a matter of time before the entire county was dead and useless to anyone.

Siba was pacing in his tower room, eyes wide and wild. He was muttering about teeth, how he could see the teeth bared at him. They were coming for him, judging him, the eyes on those teeth looking right through him.

He whirled around at the sight of something moving in his peripheral vision. He saw Ine'che clasped inside Ataio's arms, the black wings fluttering to keep them aloft. "You!" he cried, pointing straight at them. "I won't have it! You will not countermand my orders! You will serve me or die!"

Though there really couldn't have been anything he could do, Ataio watched in concern as Siba yanked open a chest he had been pacing beside. Inside the chest were countless stoppered bottles and flasks, different colored liquids inside. Some looked to contain gases, the vapors held inside but ready to spread as soon as the glass was broken.

He threw one out of the window. Before Ine'che could even scream, Ataio twisted himself and reshaped his form. It was long and serpentine, black as the deepest night. Ine'che was out of harm's way, still clutched in his grasp and clinging to him as they spun. The flask bounced harmlessly off of the scales that had formed along Ataio's back, and his wings were hardly even ruffled at all. The flask fell to the courtyard below, fire sprouting from the liquid inside once the glass was broken.

Ataio swiveled himself around again. His torso was a tight corkscrew around Ine'che, keeping her safe from whatever else Siba might want to throw at them. He bared his teeth at Siba and let two more clawed arms pull away from his body to menace the man.

Siba shouted incoherently at Ataio's nightmarish form, spittle flying from his cracked lips. "You can't have them! This world is mine! The House of Gale belongs to me and no one else! That Slipper can't rule this world!"

Ataio thought of reaching forward with his sharp claws, of slicing Siba open with a single swipe and letting his entrails spill out onto the floor. But Siba began hurling more glass bottles out of the window, and Ataio kept twisting himself into a corkscrew to keep Ine'che and their child safely away from the noxious chemicals and vapors.

Siba leaned too far forward on one throw, pitching forward and hanging out of the tower window. "I'll kill you," he seethed, staring at the darkness that was Ataio. "You won't stop me, demon. I'll kill you and drape your skin over my shoulders like a cloak! My people will rise up and fight the House of Gale, will take over the very land they corrupt! I have my ways. I'll have my reports, and I will have my entry routes into the castle. They will fall at my feet and beg for mercy, and I won't give them any! Your time is done, demon! You can't hurt me and you can't stop me! I win!"

It would be too easy to let him fall to the courtyard below, to have him slip from the windowsill and tuble down to the mess of fumes and flames below. Or to rend him limb from limb and leave him in pieces for his servants to find.

He nearly left, but he felt Ine'che tighten her hold on his coiled body. "Wait, love," she murmured against his form. "Watch what he does."

Siba was rifling through another cabinet and retrieved a bottle filled with lavender fluid. He waved it at them triumphantly. "You're too late! You see? I have the better magic. I have protection from the worst of your demons, and you can't touch me. You can't even come in here, can you? Don't you see? I'm the better ruler!"

He unstoppered the bottle and downed the contents in a single gulp. He convulsed slightly, repulsed by the taste of the concoction. "My own court magician... He knows I see the truth. He knows I see rightly." Siba pointed out of the window, his teeth bared in a lavender-coated grimace. "I am the only good ruler for the OZ!"

"It's shadow blossoms," Ine'che murmured. Atiao heard her through his coiled body, not through the rushing of blood in his ears. "He's poisoned with it."

Out of plants to make Siba the various potions and protections he had requested, the court magician did the only thing he could do when faced with certain death: he lied. He used the shadow blossoms in the courtyard and the dregs of past potions, ground up bits of decaying plants in the fields and bits of bone from slaughtered animals. He took up their innards and tried his best to come up with something to suit Siba's mad needs.

And it was killing him by inches.

Atiao moved back a bit, away from the window as Siba laughed and danced around his tower room. "Yes! This is it!" he shouted, pleased with himself. He took up another bottle full of lavender fluid and drank its entire contents before throwing the bottle out of the window. "I will beat you, demon!" he shouted out of the window, his teeth bared and fists raised. "I see you out there! I see your teeth and claws, and I will be invincible! _I see you."_

"It might be another month, unless we hurry the process," Ataio murmured to Ine'che. "Could DG tolerate that kind of strain?"

Ine'che snorted. "You know her as well as I do."

Ataio laughed and let his wings beat a gust of wind toward Siba in the tower. It knocked him backward, and he fell into the chest full of lavender potions. Soaked into his skin, the contents of the potion were quickly absorbed.

Siba shuddered, his eyes rolling into the back of his head from sheer terror. He could see the darkness, the shades of black on black on black, the slight silvery-gray glint of eyes and hair, the gnash of teeth and claw. "Green Harbor is mine!" he shouted, "And Ruby Gulch and Caronet might as well be! You can't have them!"

The darkness seemed to laugh at him. It didn't matter. _He_ didn't matter. All of his petty posturing was for nothing. The darkness over the water was full of something terrible, something shrieking and setting the people to cowering in fear. His blood curdled in his veins every time his consciousness acknowledged the sound of those inhuman screams on those ships anchored in his harbor. There were similar screams near his borders; his messenger men either could not cross the borders of darkness or were eaten alive by the darkness. None had returned, and the screaming had continued. That same mad screaming that made his insides run cold and his heart shrivel in his chest. Siba knew fear, primal fear, irrational fear.

_"Something in the dark has teeth,"_ he shouted, _"but mine will me larger and longer and sharper! I'll taste your heart!"_

Ine'che let her fingers sink into Ataio's form. "He's completely and utterly mad. This is more than just the poisoning. The very blockade made him go mad."

Ataio backed away from the tower. "Let's tell DG. She should know this."

Before Ine'che could concur, they were back in DG's suite and Ataio was back in the mortal form that the castle staff recognized. "That is rather unsettling, Ataio," Ine'che murmured, frowning at him. "Are you sure this will do no harm?"

He slid his hands around her waist and pulled her close. "There's no harm. Perhaps I don't show off quite as much as I'd like. Have you thought of that possibility?"

Ine'che snorted and pushed him aside. "You just wanted to impress me."

"Did I manage that task?"

Her lips quirked into a smile. "Perhaps."

DG walked in at that moment. She was chewing on a slice of apple in one hand, a platter in the other. "Oh! Sorry I'm late. I swung by the kitchens to get snacks. I'm not sure if food is good now for Ine'che or if you'd throw up, but I figured I'd better have some."

The two older Practitioners nodded. "Very thoughtful. My thanks, DG," Ine'che murmured.

"We have just been traveling," Ataio told her. "We have some news for you."

***

Azkadellia locked herself into the bathroom of the elaborate suite that Lurlaine had been living in. It was the only suite that was declared worthy enough for her in the undamaged part of the castle, but she recoiled at having to live in it. Callan and Della immediately began calling for the head steward and the chatelaine, intending to begin repair to the castle and to arrange for a new place to stay.

She sank to the floor next to the sumptuous tub and pulled her knees to her chest. Aliana and Cliara kept telling her to push the panic away, that being in Lurlaine's quarters wouldn't harm her in the least. And it's different now, Aliana tried to add. I'm not the same anymore, the fragments that hurt you are lost. I won't make those same mistakes, I promise.

Azkadellia felt the enchanted mirror in her pocket. It was digging into her side, and she pulled it out of the pocket. It felt like ages since she last spoke with DG, since she had thought of the OZ at all. She opened the mirror, activating the magic that she and DG had put into it.

After some time, DG came to her own little mirror. "Az!" she cried happily. "Oh my god, I was so worried about you!"

"I'm sorry, Deeg, it's a been a busy three weeks or so..."

"What? What are you talking about? Try months! It's been three months since I last spoke with you!" DG cried, eyes wide with alarm.

Azkadellia thought of Ine'che and her Practitioner souls then. They all had mentioned that the war with Lurlaine had been over three thousand years ago in Mirror Zone time, but it had been roughly a thousand by Outer Zone time. Now it seemed to be running the other way.

But time is relative, Cliara told her. Time has always been relative. Sometimes it sticks, sometimes it runs away. And time is never the same between places.

Azkadellia rubbed the side of her face tiredly. "It's... it's complicated here, I suppose," Azkadellia murmured. "Things are even worse now."

"What are you talking about?"

"Ozma..."

"How is she?" DG interrupted, grinning. "Does she remember me? How is she? Have you seen her yet? Is Lurlaine gone yet?"

_"Listen,_ Deeg," Azkadellia said, frustration coloring her tone. "She left. Ozma left."

"You're kidding me, right?" DG asked, shocked. "Why would she do that?"

Bursting into tears, Azkadellia could only shake her head. DG was concerned, asking if she should come across, if she should do something else, if she had to track down Ozma for her, if she could fix anything.

"You're not _listening._ Nobody _listens!_ She's gone. She's already gone, she doesn't want to be Queen. Ozma doesn't want to be anything more than an empty shell." Azkadellia covered her eyes and lifted Ozma's locket. "This is all she left. That and her magic, which she gave to us. Didn't you feel it? Didn't you notice? Deeg, you had to have noticed that."

DG fell silent, not sure what to say. "I'm sorry."

"I don't want you to be sorry," Azkadellia said. She felt tired, suddenly. Tired and frayed and frightened of the future. She didn't know how to be Queen through anything but terror, and how would that help the Mirror Zone? How would she be better than Lurlaine, then? How could she get over her fear of herself, if there was nowhere else to go?

"Az..."

"Stop it. Just stop it. I was the older one. I was supposed to protect you from everything, I should have tried harder to get you out of the cave. That was my fault. I should have held on tighter, but I didn't stop you from running. That was my fault. I should have tried harder to fight her off, to stop it from happening. That was my fault. I should have fought her harder when she was inside of me, when she was making me do terrible things. I shouldn't have helped her when I did, and I shouldn't have believed the lies she told me. But I did. I did those things, that is who I was and that is still who I am."

DG's eyes were wet with unshed tears. "Az..."

"Now Ozma made me Queen of this place. This place that doesn't know me, but still I'm capable of terrible and awful things. That's who I am, Deeg. That's what I've been trying to hide from you and Mother. I've been hiding it from everyone. I can't be who you want me to be. I can't be this person for you to save."

"I just want you happy," DG said, voice soft. "I'm sorry I can't help with that."

Azkadellia closed her eyes and let her head fall back against the wall of the bathroom. "I can try to be better than Lurlaine. But sooner or later, I'll fall back onto what I know. Sooner or later, I'll be this awful person again. I know this, even if they don't. And that's not your fault, it's not anything you can fix. Deeg, you can't fix everything. You can't save everyone. You just can't. It's not possible."

DG wanted to yell at her, even if it was true. She had put off the inevitable attack at Green Harbor, hoping a siege would simply make Siba give up. Now he was mad, and his people were suffering. _Her_ people were suffering.

"I wish I knew what to say to make you feel better," DG said, rubbing at her eyes. "I wish I could tell you how wonderful I think you are and make you believe it."

Smiling wistfully, Azkadellia touched the surface of the mirror with her fingertips. "I like that you try. I like that Paul and Benji try. It's nice knowing that you haven't given up on me yet. But I don't know how to be anything else, Deeg. I don't."

"Do you really think Paul or Benji would let you get that way?" DG asked softly, head cocked to the side. "They're a level headed pair. Do you honestly believe they'd let you turn back into the Sorceress when you're so afraid of it?"

"They'd have to, if I was Queen."

DG snorted. "Az, for someone so smart, sometimes you can be so stupid. They love you. They would never let something like that happen. Never. I'm sure they'd cut off their own feet rather than let you become anything you're scared of."

"Look, Deeg..."

"Okay, I don't listen much sometimes. And I don't always know how this goes. That's a given, we both know it. But I do know people. That's the only thing I know, sometimes. I _know_ that those two will move heaven and earth to make you happy, and that they will do whatever it takes to keep you safe. You are the only thing that matters to them." DG looked down and picked up her coronet. It must have been on her lap. "You know how afraid of this thing I was. Maybe just as much as you're afraid of yours."

"Deeg..." Azkadellia began. It wasn't the same thing, wasn't the same kind of fear.

"I'm going to fuck up," DG continued, voice soft. "I don't know how the OZ works, really. I don't know about this royalty business in some ways. So I'm going to fuck up royally." Her lips quirked into an ironic smile. "I think I'm okay with that for right now. I've got Wyatt. And God knows if I ever asked, I'd have Mom and Dad's help. And everyone else's. I'm not really alone in this." DG shook the coronet at the mirror. "This thing is just a thing. It doesn't mean what I think it does. It's just a pretty thing to stick in my hair so my bangs don't fall into my eyes. It'll be like getting dressed up for the prom every damn day, but it isn't as world-ending as I was afraid it was going to be."

Azkadellia watched as DG put the coronet onto her head. "And if it is?"

"People will help me. People will stop me from being the thing I'm afraid of. I can trust in that."

Azkadellia let her hand close around Ozma's locket. _Her_ locket now. "I'm still afraid, Deeg." The tears continued to fall. "I've done so many awful things..."

"I've forgiven you. Mom's forgiven you. And the people here have started to come around. It'll be okay, Az. We're all going to be okay. You have to believe that."

There was knocking on the door. "Delia!" Callan called through it. "We came as soon as we felt it. What's going on in there?"

"We're knocking down the door if you can't answer," Della called out. His voice was more muffled; he must have been standing behind Callan.

DG was laughing on the other side of the mirror. "You see? How can you go wrong if they're around to help you out? How can you be this awful thing if they can feel it when you're upset?"

Sure enough, Della kicked in the door. They stood there in the doorway, concern etched onto their features. Once they realized that Azkadellia was physically all right, they both sat down on the floor with her. They faced her, reaching out for her. She grasped their hands as best as she could, and the tears slowed.

"I wish you were coming back," DG murmured softly. "I miss you. I miss getting to know you, the real you, the sister I remember. But it's okay. We'll have the mirror and whatever visits we can do. And if we have to, we'll just leave ourselves messages for our kids to pass along." She smiled a bittersweet smile at her sister. "You know you're the one that should've been Queen all along, anyway. You'll be a better Queen than you think. You know what to look out for. You'll keep watch for the signs. You'll be okay."

Azkadellia nodded and sniffled. "I love you, DG. Tell Mother and Father I love them, too."

"I will. You and your men take care of yourselves."

The mirror grew dim when DG closed off her end of the connection. Azkadellia looked at Callan and Della, at their tangled fingers. "I'm still scared," she whispered.

"We're not going anywhere," Callan told her.

"Nothing will happen to you," Della said at the same time.

They fell into a tangled huddle as Azkadellia's other two selves whispered, We're going to do this the right way. This time, it will work. This time, it'll be done right.

Azkadellia hoped she could believe it.

***  
***


	19. Ending The War

"Well, you look upset about something."

DG looked up at Cain. "Am I supposed to be happy about my sister being trapped somewhere for all of eternity and hating herself? I missed that in those awful OZ protocol lectures my mother threw at me, sorry."

Cain lofted an eyebrow at her sarcasm. "Is this one of those times where it's better to leave you alone to sulk? Or should I just follow my instincts and tell you that you're not being fair?"

DG threw a pillow at him. "Stop being so fucking reasonable! I'm never going to see her again!"

"Who says?" Cain asked as he caught the pillow. "Time is strange. Who says you can't just make a portal to the Mirror Zone that somehow goes backward in time?"

She threw out her lower lip in an epic pout. "I don't know how to fix this. If it was an engine, I'd just take it all apart and put it back together from scratch. Then I'd _know_ it worked properly." She grabbed another pillow from the bed and covered her face with it. "But oh, right. Crown Princess. Mustn't get my hands dirty."

Cain had been undressing for bed during the conversation between DG and Azkadellia. He strode back across the room and pulled the pillow off of DG's face. "Do you need the same pep talk that she did? What happened to knowing people?"

DG pushed at his chest as he hovered over her. "Don't throw my own words at me, Wyatt. That's not fair."

"Who said I'd be fair?" he teased. He lowered himself on top of her and kissed her thoroughly. "It's been a long time since we've been alone together for more than five minutes, and definitely a long time since we've done more than sleep in this bed."

"War outside," DG pointed out.

"But not in here," Cain replied, pulling back far enough to lock his gaze to hers. "And if we lose sight of why we're fighting, it won't end."

"You're being reasonable again," DG accused playfully.

Cain couldn't help but smile. "Someone has to be in this relationship, darlin'," he drawled. It put a smile back on her face. "There we go. That's what I wanted to see."

"I love you, Wyatt," DG murmured, cupping his face in her hands. "So much it's scary."

He knew what it was like to lose someone. He knew exactly what she meant. "I love you, Dorothy Gale," Cain murmured, using her entire first name. He turned his head to kiss her palms, one after the other. "Even your magic." He leaned forward so that she had to move her hands. He then kissed her forehead, just beneath her coronet. "Even your crown." He pulled back to grin at her. "Even your family. All of you."

Cain braced himself with one arm as he leaned down to kiss her. DG opened her mouth beneath his, her tongue sliding out to touch his. They kissed, savoring the feel of each other. It had been far too long. Even parting their mouths for breath was too much. "Wyatt," she whimpered as his mouth crashed back over hers. "I love you," she moaned. "I love you so much."

Cain traced the curve of her jaw with his free hand, then the rise of her breast. DG arched into his touch, the thin fabric of her dress doing nothing to lessen the feel of his touch. Cain ran his fingers around her breast, the tips of his fingers brushing tantalizingly over her nipple. His tongue dove deeper into her mouth when she gasped, and a light pinch had her moaning against him again. He moved his hand down along the stays of the dress, and DG moved her hands from his back to yank up the skirt of her dress. He laughed against her mouth, and she smiled against his lips. There was no need for speech now; they had ached for each other for far too long, and they weren't going to waste this moment with words. He found her thighs, then traced his way to her center. His fingers slipped inside, where she was already damp. She gasped as she kissed him, hot and open. DG threw her head back when his thumb brushed over her clit. Her hips tilted to give him better access, to let him move his fingers deeper inside of her, and she clawed at his back as the pleasure mounted.

When she came, Cain plunged deeply inside of her. He moved quickly, pumping into her, and she pulled at his hips with her hands. She tilted her hips, trying to have him drive even deeper into her, eyes shut and head thrown back as she moaned in pleasure. DG might have said something as her hands tightened around his hips – more, yes, please, Wyatt, there, yes, oh yes, right there – but Cain groaned when he found his release. She was close to orgasm, teetering on another edge she hadn't realized existed, and a few more agonizing thrusts had her falling into another climax.

Tangled up in each other, DG could only smile. "You always did know how to calm me down."

Grinning, he gave her coronet a swat. "Brat."

"Yeah, well... Tension, you know? That's a bad thing."

"Terrible," Cain agreed, using the same mockingly grave tone DG was using.

They lay there together, their heartbeats slowing down. "I need to end this war, Wyatt."

"Yes, you do. It's more than time. Siba could never have defeated your magic or the Shadow Brigade, and he never would have given up."

DG threaded her hands through Cain's hair. "In the morning, I'm going to end the blockade. I want you to take your men to Green Harbor, Ruby Gulch and Caronet. Arrest the nobles and bring all of their courts to Central City. They all go on trial."

They both knew that they would be found guilty of treason, then executed.

"It will end up all right. You know it will."

Her fingers tightened a fraction in his hair. "We'll make sure it does. Together."

***

DG had a point, and Azkadellia woke the next morning sure of it. She left the castle wearing her own clothing and Ozma's locket. _Her_ locket, now. The O and Z on it could remind her of the Outer Zone, where she had come from and what she should never be. Callan and Della would make sure she would be all right. She trusted them more than she trusted herself.

Various courtiers and the Unseelie Court had remained in the wake of Lurlaine's execution. Her allies had already been killed or run to ground, and Azkadellia already knew she couldn't allow any uprising in the wake of this war. She issued a pardon to all courtiers following Lurlaine's direction, and planned to reorganize the Unseelie and Seelie Courts into a single one that would meet with her regularly. As disconcerted as she felt, that move seemed to disconcert all of the courtiers even more. Most didn't know what to do with themselves now.

Azkadellia gathered them all on the open green field near the castle. In a loud, clear voice, she began to speak. "I want all of you to take everything out of the castle that has any kind of value. If it's monetary or emotionally valuable, take it out. We'll put it into storage while we tear down this castle and build a new one." She ignored the disquiet and shock that rolled through the people around her. "I want to interview all of the architects and master builders you can find, and we will design a new palace. Everything is going to be new from here on out. It's going to be different, and I want that to be reflected in the palace."

You'll be all right, my dear, Aliana told her. We're with you. We'll help you, just as everyone else will once they understand what you're doing.

You are more than strong enough, Cliara said with a nod. You are our third, of course. Did you really think that we would allow someone weak to combine with us? That we would take this kind of trouble for just anyone?

Amused, Azkadellia looked up at the cloud cover that she hadn't removed yet. "Once all the Nightwalkers have returned to the Glorious Pale, the Dawn can return to the Sanctuary."

Everyone scurried away to do as Azkadellia bid. She looked over the greenery, at the flowing river just beyond it, the boundary between the Sanctuary and the rest of the Mirror Zone. It reminded her of the fields in the OZ between Central City and the Gray Gale. Things were just a little bit different, like looking at a memory from childhood through the distortions of time. It wasn't the same as it used to be, and it never would.

This was her place now. This was where she belonged.

"You'll be fine," Della promised, sliding into place beside her. Callan was on her other side, and dropped his head down onto her shoulder. "Everything is starting over. You, too."

Some part of her would always be afraid. She had to be alert to that possibility, that the cruelty she had been capable of would return. She had to be sure she was worthy of this, that she would indeed be a beneficial ruler.

Her magic crackled beneath her skin. It was soothing and unfamiliar at once; this extra magic in her still had to settle into place. Maybe that was why she was so unsettled? Another thing to worry about, another thing that could go wrong.

Callan slid his arms around her waist. "Maybe Ozma did have one thing right, though."

"What are you talking about?" Della asked, brows knit. "She obviously didn't have much going on upstairs."

"Yes, well. She liked to travel. She liked getting to know people that way." Callan straightenedd up and moved to face Azkadellia's curious gaze. "I think we need to travel. Not like she does, of course. But if this is going to be new for everyone, then this is your chance to get to know the land you're ruling. You'd learn what each area needs, what they want, what kind of people they are. Then you'd really know if you have cause to be worried or not."

Della was impressed. "Sometimes you outdo yourself, Benji."

Azkadellia leaned forward and kissed him soundly on the mouth. "I like the sound of that. We can do that right away, while they're rebuilding the castle. When we get back, every trace of Lurlaine and whatever she did will be gone."

Linking arms through theirs, Azkadellia couldn't help but smile. Callan and Della would help her through this; DG was right about that part.

Maybe it wasn't too much to hope for, after all.

***

The trials for the traitorous palace guards had been private. The trials for Siba and all of his co-conspirators were public, taking place in the open square in the very heart of Central City. The guards and Shadow Brigade members were in force, keeping the peace along with the Central City tin men. As much as DG had been tempted to keep it private with a public announcement afterward, she knew it would be best this way.

The people needed to look into the faces of the notable traitors, they needed to hear why he had done it, why he had forced the terrible months upon them. They needed to know that the Crown Princess would be fair and would demand justice.

Justice and fairness weren't always mutually exclusive, and she had to show that she knew the difference between them.

Siba went on trial first, as the one to first defect from the nobility's ranks. He was clearly mad, howling at the people around him and the chains that bound him in place on the raised platform in front of the royal dais. He struggled against them, teeth bared, spittle flying from his lips. His eyes were wide and bloodshot, seeing almost nothing but the Gales themselves.

"You are accused of treason," the court reporter said. "What is your answer to this charge?"

"This world is mine!" he shouted. "I hear your Slipper magic. I hear you, whispering in the walls and tapping on the floors. I know what you're doing, putting teeth in the dark and making it tear away my people. I see them, I know them for what they are!" He bared his teeth at DG and the Queen. DG faced him head on, but the Queen shrank back toward Ahamo in terror. "Oh yes, I know you. I know what you're doing. I'm the only true ruler of the OZ, and you know it. They know it, but they live in fear of you. They're afraid of the teeth in the dark, of the screaming on the water and they know you've done it. You've done it to keep them small and afraid. But this world is _mine,_ and I will rule it! I will break your back to take it if I have to!"

DG rose from her seat on the dais, her coronet heavy on her head. She turned to the court reporter, ignoring the rest of Siba's diatribe. "This will be a 'yes' to your question," DG said with a firm nod. "Please proceed. The people are upset, and so is my mother."

There were whispers all around, pitying looks for the Queen and wonder at the calm that DG was displaying. The poor people of Green Harbor, to have had a madman in charge all this time. He had seemed so sane once. And to think, the people had once thought he was a worthy suitor for their Crown Princess.

All of Siba's advisors were put to trial, as were the barons of Ruby Gulch and Caronet and their advisors. The members of all three minor courts were guilty. The court reporter took down every word faithfully, and everyone looked to the Queen at the close of the trial.

Shaking, the Queen rose to her feet. DG did as well. Ahamo and Cain stood, but were a half step behind the Gale women. They weren't the rulers, and they weren't the ones who had pass official judgment on the traitors.

"You are all guilty of treason to the Crown and the House of Gale," the Queen said, her voice louder and more confident than she felt. "You are hereby sentenced to execution."

Most of the crowd nodded in agreement. Some seemed more stunned that it was the Queen who had pronounced the sentence.

"In addition," the Queen continued. DG could see her hands shaking, but this had to be done. DG couldn't do it for her. "All of the county lands are hereby seized and returned to the Crown until further notice. All heirs of the current barons that were not involved are disinherited but not accused of treason at this time. There will be no claim upon the lands by any heirs."

There was silence, then the whispering amongst the people began again. DG resisted the urge to tell them to shut up; her mother just needed a bit of courage to continue, but she wasn't finished just yet.

"The people of Green Harbor, Ruby Gulch and Caronet may elect amongst themselves someone they find worthy of ruling over them. They have the next month to decide and send their delegates to Central City. At that time, I will award the barony to their delegate." The Queen looked over the crowds, which were stunned to silence. "As much as these recent events have pained me and my family, I am proud of our people. You have shown great strength and resilience. I thank you for your patience and loyalty." She smiled at the crowd, looking over as many of the people as she could. "In the name of our family, the entire House of Gale bids you blessings on this day."

"And may the Suns continue to shine!" the crowd replied in the traditional echo.

The war was over.

***

The two weeks after the trials consisted of constant dinners and dances and public appearances to solidify the view that the royal house was stable and happy now that the threat to their rule was over. All of the traitors had been hung then decapitated, their bodies buried in a communal grave far outside Central City. Their families were dispossessed, and apparently there were many debates in the three counties regarding their future rule. In two weeks, new barons would be named and entitled, and things would have settled into a normal routine.

And four months after that, DG was going to be married.

"I have a way to keep the both of you in the same time frame," Ine'che said during one of DG's magic lessons. She was instantly alert, which made Ataio smother a laugh.

"Well? What is it?"

"Your communications have tied you both to the same moment in time. The magic connects you both, until you break it." Ine'che smiled. "I'm surprised you haven't thought of this yourself, Dorothy Gale. You've made other intuitive leaps of magical theory."

"You mean, I just keep a portal open the entire time she's visiting?"

"She can come to conclusions," Ataio said, lips quirked into a smile. "And you thought she wouldn't think of it."

DG made a face at both of them. "Well, of course I have to test this out. You know that, right?"

"Not to mention, figure out a way to anchor the portals so that they do not require your concentration all the time," Ataio pointed out. "And do not assume that either of us will do the task for you," he warned sternly. "There is enough for us to think of as it is."

They were in her sitting room. It was as good a place as any to try anchoring a portal to the Mirror Zone. What was a little warping and bending of reality?

DG tried to picture Azkadellia in a safe place at a time close to the last time they spoke. That was her intent; her magic would find the precise moment to begin anchoring the portal lines.

_There._

She began weaving the portal, trying to anchor the threads into the floor and ceiling of her sitting room. It was like trying to make gossamer threads like steel, which was difficult enough to do with actual thread, let alone threads made up of magic. She couldn't ask Ine'che or Ataio for help on this one. They were her teachers and advisors, but ultimately she had to be able to do this on her own. She couldn't rely on them for everything.

Before her eyes, the air seemed to shimmer. While the shimmer effect didn't fade, the image coming through it became clear. It slowly became more solid, and DG could see that it was the sitting room of another suite. Azkadellia's back was to the portal, and she looked to be reading a book while sitting on a reclining chair.

DG pictured the anchors like cables on a bridge. She thought of her magic in more colorful and graphic terms than anyone else around her did, but she was an artist. It shouldn't have been a surprise, really. Building the portal was almost like mentally painting a canvas of what she wanted to create, and it came into existence layer by layer.

When the portal seemed to be solid enough, DG went through it. As Azkadellia turned around, DG slipped her hands over her sister's eyes. "Guess who?"

"Deeg?" Azkadellia cried, startled. The book slid off of her lap as she half turned to see her grinning sister and the portal behind her. "What's going on?"

"The war's over in the OZ, too, you know." DG perched on the edge of Azkadellia's chair and noted that she was in a loose dressing gown. "Were you going to go to bed?"

"It's the late afternoon here," Azkadellia said, shaking her head and smiling. She stood up and waved at Ataio and Ine'che through the portal. "So what's the occasion?"

"Testing things before the wedding." DG grinned at Azkadellia. "If I can keep that thing open the entire time either one of us is crossed over to the other Zone, the weird time things shouldn't happen. We can easily visit and not lose track of things."

Azkadellia laughed delightedly. "That's a wonderful idea, Deeg."

"Yeah, well, think of this as the calm before the storm. Mom's got pink and lavender and gold _everywhere,_ the cooks are redoing the menu _again,_ the baker doesn't think the cake he designed is good enough..." DG trailed off when she noticed something just a little bit off about Azkadellia's stance. "Are you okay?"

"Just tired," Azkadellia said, waving off DG's concern. But DG poked at Azkadellia's side with a frown, and she twisted away. "Hey! Stop that!"

"Az!" DG cried, hopping off of the recliner's arm. "Are you pregnant?!"

She gave her sister a rueful smile. "I was waiting for a good time to tell you."

DG wrapped Azkadellia into a bear hug. "Oh, that's wonderful. Mom will flip. Two babies to talk about! Yours and Ine'che's," she added at Azkadellia's confusion.

"She'll want you started next," Azkadellia teased.

She snorted and gave Azkadellia a dismissive wave. "One disastrous monstrosity of an event at a time. Can you imagine Mom decorating a nursery for me? No thanks. I'll do it myself. Lots of practical things instead of things that look ready to break just looking at them." DG grinned and tugged on Azkadellia's hand. "Come on, come on. How far along? When am I going to be an auntie? Do you know which one's the father?"

Azkadellia only laughed at DG's enthusiasm. Some things would never change. "Two months along, so the baby will be here after the wedding. We don't know and we don't care. It doesn't change a thing."

DG was nearly bouncing up and down with excitement. "Oh! I have to try and keep this portal open the entire time! I don't want to miss a moment of being an auntie just because the time gets wonky between our two Zones."

Azkadellia went to the portal and touched its shimmering edge. The two sleeping Practitioners in her mind tested the threads and were content with its strength. "It'll last a while, we think. Maybe not the entire pregnancy, but maybe until the wedding."

"Good enough," DG squealed happily. "I want you there, of course. Say you'll help to contain Mom and Dad? It's going to be frilly. It's going to be all royal and crap, and I need someone sane to help me contain them."

"You're calling _me_ sane?" Azkadellia asked, startled.

"Sure. More than Mom when it comes to this sort of thing," DG said easily. She linked her arm through Azkadellia's, much as they used to do when they were children. "We're a united front on this, aren't we Az?" she asked.

Azkadellia could almost see DG's open, childish face superimposed over her current one. It was almost as if they hadn't lost fifteen annuals at all.

She smiled and patted DG's arm fondly. "Of course we are. And we'll have to invite my court, of course. It will be really bad form to have them all walking through our bedrooms, but I'm sure we can make a few smaller ones in more appropriate places."

Ataio nodded at them through the portal. "You already have one connection in place. It should be easy enough to create more."

"But not _you_ Dorothy Gale," Ine'che cautioned. "The rest of us should do those portals, so that you don't overtax your magic skill and rupture this one." She smoothed her dress over her own rounded belly. The next generation of wyvern would be born soon enough, probably close to the same time as the next generation of Gale.

Ataio rested his hand on her arm as the two sisters began to talk. "We should let them catch up. It appears to have been some time for Azkadellia."

"The Mirror Zone generally moves faster than this one," Ine'che agreed. "I think our lessons are done for the day. We can retire together until dinner."

He clasped her hand tightly in his. "I would like that," he murmured, then pressed his lips to her temple in a loving gesture. "You need rest as well."

Her lips curled into a sensuous smile. "I wasn't thinking of rest, Ataio."

He couldn't help but laugh. "No? Very well, then. Show me what your plan includes."

These Zones were safe enough, Ataio decided. Both of the Gale sisters had found their place and accepted their roles in it. The details would sort themselves out, and he would be entertained by watching the sisters grow into the Queens that they were meant to be. They were family, after a fashion, and now he was going to have another one with Ine'che.

Strange, the way life turned out when you weren't planning it. It was definitely more fun than he thought it could be, and worth participating in.

Everything was starting anew. Ataio couldn't wait to watch it all unfold.

The End.


End file.
